


i know he knows that he’s killing me for mercy

by el_gilliath, Winged_Fool



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alex Manes' Pack of Emotional Therapy Dogs, Bad Therapy, Blood and Gore, Cannibalism, Dark, Descriptions of murder, Emotional Manipulation, Graphic Description, Hannibal AU, M/M, Manipulation, Mentions of past child abuse, Minor Maria DeLuca/Michael Guerin, Minor gaslighting, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:46:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 32,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28003356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/el_gilliath/pseuds/el_gilliath, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winged_Fool/pseuds/Winged_Fool
Summary: Special Agent Alex Manes gets pulled into investigating another murder he knows will scramble his mind, like so many others has done before. But there’s something different about these murders, something that scratches in the back of his mind like an itch he can’t reach. And with the investigation comes the new acquaintance of one Dr. Michael Guerin. Someone who both peaks his interests and causes a cold feeling along his spine in ways he shouldn’t.Meanwhile Michael wants to get closer to this new agent on the team in any way he can, be it by manipulation, therapy, or feeding him to make sure Alex can’t really leave. His secret is too big not to keep his friends close, and his enemies closer.AKA this is a Hannibal AU. There will be darkness Inside.
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 53
Kudos: 37
Collections: Roswell New Mexico Big Bang 2020





	1. Michael

**Author's Note:**

> Well. Here it is, our labor of love, darkness and angst.
> 
> This wouldn't have happened without the love and support of The Finer Things Club. We love you, thank you for always listening, always pushing and always being there <3
> 
> A huge thanks also goes to Alix and L for their help with read through and betaing, thank you so much lovelies!
> 
> And last but certainly not least, go listen to the AMAZING [playlist](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28000497) put together by our fantastic artist [tasyfa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tasyfa/pseuds/Tasyfa). She also made the cover art, and she's a phenomenal writer herself so go give her some love.  
> [LINK TO THE PLAYLIST POST](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28000497)  
>   
> 

He remembers in perfect detail, the moments of his childhood he wishes he could forget. How his mother kissed his forehead goodnight, how his father, strict but kind, would hug him. How his little sister, Nora, smelled when she was born. A tiny babe, slightly pudgy but so beautiful. How his mother wept at finally having the girl she had always wanted, how his father wept at her obvious joy. They loved Nora, perhaps in ways they had never loved him, their perfect little girl. He loved her too, with the unshakeable devotion of a big brother having been told to love his sister.

Though how could he not? She was the perfect child, while he was a rowdy boy, rambunctious and wild, he ran around with a ferocious energy and made himself known. No one could ignore Michael Guerin, the Wild Child.

But his sister. Nora Guerin was quiet, lovely, timid, and shy. A beautiful child with the gentlest energy, she calmed the world around her and giggled prettily when she was amused. She sat next to him and he too would calm. Their parents called her a miracle, as his mother stroked their hair and called them her beloved ones, his father watching with love in his eyes. The exasperation of his parents over his wilder tendencies was never in their eyes when Nora was with him.

His father would sit in the office, smoke a cigar and have a whiskey, the expensive kind from the Isles of Scotland, in a crystal carafe that Michael wasn’t allowed near. But his father would set down the tumbler, would allow Michael to sit in his lap and show him the numbers he was working on. He loved that quiet time with his dad, the men of the house together, as his mother would read to Nora in the sitting room.

His mother was a natural in the kitchen, making and mixing dishes as she pleased. She would experiment with spices and herbs, never too afraid to mess up. If something failed, she would try something new, or salvage it somehow. She would let Michael help, delighted to teach him the tricks of her trade. She would teach him to measure, show him how to season just right. He loved that time with his mother, two cooks in the kitchen, as his father and Nora would play the piano in the study.

Michael loved his sister most of all. She was the light in his life, just as she was the wanted child in his mother’s, the apple of his father’s eye. She was the sweetest and she loved her brother with an all consuming love.

They were inseparable, two peas in a pod, the wild child and the shy child. Michael convinced her to try things she normally wouldn’t, she convinced him to calm down. It was a sibling bond for the ages, and had they not been four years apart they would’ve been believed to be twins. Perhaps they were meant to be, but God decided that two exceptionally gorgeous children at once would be too much, and split them up.

For they were gorgeous, the both of them. Shining, hazel eyes, the glorious curls, and soft, beautiful faces. If Michael’s was covered in mud half the time, well that was just the way he was. The beautiful Guerin children were still the talk of their quiet, suburban town, everyone knowing what a great beauty little Nora would grow up to be, and what a handsome man Michael would become when the wildness settled.

They lived a good life. His father worked 8-4, his mother stayed home. The children went to a private school, receiving the best education they could get. They lived in a big house, carefully maintained with the help of a string of paid servants, a big pool set in an even bigger garden meticulously cleaned by a pool service and cared for by a gardener used to the gardens of rich people. It was happy days, good family days, filled with love, care, and attention. They never wanted for anything.

Unfortunately, it wouldn’t last.

War came upon them, in the form of old soldiers who moved into the neighborhood when the German government established a halfway house for their rehabilitation in the area, believing that the closeness to suburban life would help them see a meaning in life again.

The men were cruel, people who had seen too much and done too much in their lives. In the end, it backfired completely, warping their minds and making them feel entitled to whatever they wanted. Be it drinks, food, cars. Women. They terrorized everyone, made people flee in panic, after they killed the staff meant to help them.

But not Michael’s father. Having built his entire home himself, he refused to leave it. As a soldier himself, he believed they would respect him, respect his home. Respect his family. Michael remembers wishing he was right. Wishing that he could keep his sister and mother safe, as his father kept them all safe. That they wouldn’t have to leave his childhood home.

It was dark when they finally came. There were only two families left in the neighborhood, the Guerins and the Longs. The Long family had twins, Wyatt and Kate. The same age as Michael, they were the bestest friends he had besides his sister. He remembers the frantic phone call from Mr. Long, the yelling he could hear through the phone before it all turned quiet, his father turning, white as a sheet, towards them, shakily ordering them to pack a bag and get to the car.

By then it was already too late.

They burst in through the front door as if they owned it, seizing his parents as his mother screamed, as his father tried to fight them off, to protect his wife and children. A swift punch to the stomach stopped his father, as his mother cried and his sister screamed beside him. They were forced into the master bedroom, his sister and he forced to watch as they raped his mother while they killed his father by stabbing him several times, forced to watch as they suffocated his mother afterward.

He screamed when they took his sister from him after, yelling and thrashing around as the wild child he had been called a thousand times. Yelled as he watched them undress her, yelled as they made her stand under icy cold water naked, her tiny frame wracking with cold as she cried out for her brother to help her. Yelled as they wouldn’t let her dry off, as they laughed cruelly and forced her to stand around and shiver in the now cold air of the house.

He broke away from them once, ran over and hugged her, telling her that he loved her. He regretted it then when they forced them apart, and hit him violently a few times. He doesn’t regret it now, it was worth the pain.

They told him they would let them go if he told them how much he loved his sister. He did, blurting it out in between bruised lips and crying. They hit her when they weren’t satisfied with his answer, held her up by her arms, and shook her hard.

They made him tell them how much he hated his sister. When he didn’t, they started burning her, and him, with lit cigarettes. He made something up to make them stop. They didn’t.

They took her away what felt like a few hours later, though in fact it had been a few days, taking her into the kitchen. He heard her scream, but didn’t dare to scream himself, afraid that they would hit him again. He listened to her scream, her sobbing, her whimpering. Wishing he could help her but too afraid.

He remembers he felt relieved when she stopped, certain (hoping) that they had stopped.

They taunted him, teased him, tortured him over the next hours, telling him how they had been watching him and his family for weeks, especially his sister. How they hoped they wouldn’t leave so they could get their hands on them, get their dicks wet in his mother’s pussy using his father’s blood, get their hands on his little’s sister and play with her, put their hands on him and grip his curls tight as they made him to whatever they want.

He listened because they forced him to, promising they would let him see his sister if he listened, if he spoke of how much he liked what they were saying, if he let them do whatever they wanted with him. He did.

About six hours after they took her, they brought him something to eat. Pie, freshly made. He wondered why they would be cooking, why they would bring him anything when they were obviously planning on killing him too. But the hunger took over, and he ravenously ate the entire three pieces of pie. He didn’t notice his captors smiling, didn’t notice the gleeful grins on their faces.

He got violently ill when they told him what was in the pie. When they showed him the severed leg of his sister, evil laughter and haunting smiles he would never forget.

He doesn’t remember what happened after. Doesn’t remember running into the kitchen, doesn’t remember grabbing the first thing he saw. Doesn’t remember the righteous fury and the screams of his captors. Doesn’t remember eventually calling the police.

And so little Michael was found, four days later. Alone in his childhood home, the rotting corpses of his parents in the master bedroom, the mutilated corpse of his sister in the kitchen. Two torn apart men at his feet, a meat cleaver in his hands. Golden, beautiful curls matted with blood. Shining hazel eyes, dead to the world.

Sometimes he wishes he was back there.

* * *

“Dr. Guerin, Captain Manes is here.”

“Thank you, Rosa. Let him in.”

Michael adjusts his tie, pulling slightly on the jacket of his suit to make sure it sits perfectly on his frame. Golden curls perfectly tamed on his head, hazel eyes closed off but still so very curious. Longing for knowledge.

He smiles as the door opens. Showtime.


	2. Alex

Alex feels his presence before he sees him. He only stumbles briefly in the middle of his lecture to the FBI trainees, ignoring his presence in the doorway. Alex clicks through the slides of one of the serial killers he helped ID explaining the ways the profile was put together from this particular killer’s crime scenes.

Alex’s empathy has been his curse for most of his life. When students showed up to school with a minor bruise or scrape, the incidents would immediately unfold within his mind. As he grew older and began to know those around him more intimately, it wasn’t hard to imagine how every slip up came to be. When he was deployed, the war-torn cities his unit went through painted vivid pictures in his mind as he envisioned the suffering that had occurred there.

After his discharge from the Air Force, he drifted untethered, trying to find a way to fill his time after the carefully constructed lifestyle the military had provided him with was gone. An old friend from the Air Force mentioned he’d started consulting for the FBI and the idea intrigued Alex. He eventually became a profiler for the Bureau and was able to use his empathy to help find killers and it was the first time he was grateful for the gift, for a time anyway.

He finishes the lecture and dismisses the class without pomp and slowly gathers his things to avoid talking to him as long as possible. But he must grow tired of waiting because he approaches while Alex is at the front of the classroom, pretending to read every piece of paper before packing it away.

“Alex,” Max, the head of the New Mexico’s FBI Behavioral Science Unit, greets, tone slightly tinged with annoyance.

Alex sighs heavily before finally looking up, “What do you want, Max?”

Max laughs, “Oh come on, is that any way to greet a colleague?”

“You only ever come talk to me when you need something, so let’s just cut to the chase,” Alex responds curtly.

Max studies Alex for a moment then nods to himself. “Fine, you’re right. I have a case we’re having trouble profiling,” Max starts and Alex interrupts him.

“I don’t do fieldwork anymore, Max, you know that. I haven’t cleared the psych eval since the Minnesota Shrike.”

“You wouldn’t need to do active fieldwork. I just want you to look at the photos and see if you can come up with a profile.” Max coaxes gently.

Alex exhales deeply and runs his fingers through his hair, “What’s the case?”

Max smiles and relaxes, almost like he already knows Alex is going to capitulate. “It’s the Rio Grande Ripper.”

Alex looks up sharply, “The Rio Grande Ripper hasn’t killed in three years.”

“Well he’s back,” Max answers simply.

He stays silent, chewing on his lip. The Ripper has been one of the most elusive killers in the FBI’s recent history and if Max was asking for his help, they must have something big. “Fine. _One_ look.” Alex warns.

Max smiles, preening because he knew Alex would never turn it down. “We’ve been consulting with a psychiatrist for the profile. He’s here now, would you have a minute to look it over now?”

Alex frowns, knowing he’s been played but nods his agreement anyway. “Great!” Max exclaims and they exit the classroom together. “Dr. Guerin is really excellent. He came recommended by Maria. Apparently he was her mentor...” Alex tunes him out as Max continues to prattle on until they arrive at Max’s office.

He rapts his fist against the door to alert the occupant they were entering. “Dr. Guerin, this is Captain Alex Manes,” Max announces.

The man perched elegantly in the chair furthest from the door turns and stands to greet them. He’s gorgeous, tall, firm lines, wild curls, and cool eyes. Alex feels a spark of heat that he immediately pushes down and quickly averts his eyes then holds out a hand to Dr. Guerin. “A pleasure to meet you...Captain?” Michael says as he takes Alex’s hand. There’s a hint of a foreign accent beneath his clipped tone, German perhaps?

“Air Force,” Alex answers the unspoken question when they release each other’s hand. He gestures vaguely in front of himself, still avoiding Dr. Guerin’s eyes. “Just call me Alex.”

He’s still not looking at Dr. Guerin so he misses the way his lips quirk up in a predatory smile. “Alex,” he hums and the heat reignites in Alex. “Please call me Michael.”

Alex simply nods his head and looks in Max’s direction. “Okay, let’s see those pictures.”

Max obliges without a word and spreads the photos on the desk in front of him. They depict the Ripper’s usual handiwork: brutally murdered, various organs missing. Alex hums as he looks, “Just the two?” Max confirms and Alex frowns. “You’re sure it’s the Ripper and not a copy-cat?”

Michael chimes in, “I also found it off. Perhaps there _is_ another?”

“The organs have been removed methodically, it matches the Ripper’s MO,” Max insists.

Alex concentrates on the pictures, tries to get in the headspace of the Ripper, lets his eyes fall shut. “I am an upstanding citizen, have gone through some sort of rigorous training, bored with the mundane life I lead. I read true crime stories and have become fascinated by the Ripper. With his tactics, I can release my frustration until the one I actually want to kill comes along,” Alex intones in a slight trance, then opens his eyes and looks Max head on, “It’s not the Ripper,” He chances a quick look at Michael who looks pleased.

Max lets out a sound of frustration, “Can you be sure?”

“As sure as I can be without seeing the bodies,” Alex confirms.

Max seems satisfied by the answer, or at least accepts it, and addresses Michael, “We’ll have to take another look at the bodies with this new information.”

Michael makes a noise of agreement and Alex asks, “You any good at profiling, doctor?”

“Good enough,” Michael replies, all confidence. He turns his body to face Alex directly, “Take you, for example. Avoiding eye contact so you don’t read too much into us, favoring one leg and, given your military background, I am thinking a prosthetic? Good at profiling but afraid of taking on their personalities.”

That shocks Alex out of his reverie and looks at Michael with anger and realization washing over him. “You utter bastard, Max,” Alex breathes out, turning his attention to Max who has the decency to look sheepish. “Jesus, you just don’t know how to stop pushing, do you.”

He angrily gets to his feet as Max tries to placate him, “We need you, Alex. You can’t live afraid of your shadow when you can stop killers.”

“Fuck. You.” Alex spits out then storms away from the two men.

* * *

When Alex gets home, he’s greeted by his pack. “Hi Stella, Honey, Buffy, Winston, Yoda, Willow, Ellen,” he greets each dog and bends down to ruffle their fur before making his way to his couch. All seven dogs hop on the couch with him and vie for his attention. He indulges them each with pats and baby-sweet words that have them wagging their tails excitedly.

Alex’s pack time is interrupted by his phone ringing and with a groan, he answers after seeing the caller ID, “Look, if Max put you up to calling, I don’t want to hear it, Maria.”

Maria huffs out a laugh on the other side of the line, “He told me what happened, but he didn’t ask me to call.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

She sighs softly, “Alex…”

“I’m not afraid of my shadow,” Alex bites out.

“Who said that? Max?” Maria asks in disbelief and Alex’s silence confirms her question. She sighs again, this time in frustration. “You know he didn’t mean it like that. He just doesn’t think things through.”

“He sure put a lot of thought into tricking me into a psych eval,” Alex responds sarcastically.

“I don’t agree with how he did it, but he might not be wrong,” Maria says hesitantly.

“What? What are you saying, Maria?” Alex demands as he sits up straighter on the couch.

“Alex, it wouldn’t hurt you to see a therapist,” Maria begins gently and he clutches the phone tightly, waiting for the rest of the blows. “You definitely needed to talk to someone after your discharge, but after the Minnesota Shrike...you’ve become a shadow of yourself.”

“One afraid of other shadows?” Alex asks bitterly.

Maria ignores his comment and continues, “Michael is an excellent psychiatrist. He could really help you work through some of your trauma. Aside from playing along with Max’s charade, is there anything you think would make it difficult to work with him?”

Alex thinks of the stab of attraction he’d felt toward the doctor and banishes it from his mind. “No,” he grumbles out.

“Would you at least do one session with him? For me?”

“That’s a dirty trick,” Alex says, they both know he’ll do whatever she asks of him. They’ve become incredibly close since he started working with the FBI, she’s like a sister to him.

“I just want you to be okay,” Maria soothes.

Alex sighs, “Fine, give me the number.”

* * *

The entirety of the next morning, Alex paces back and forth, his pack happily following him, as he mulls over the decision to call. He hates the idea of giving in to Max, especially the way he’d played it, but Maria was right that he could talk to someone. Finally, after twelve noon comes and goes, Alex curses himself and punches in the number Maria had given him.

While it’s ringing, he almost panics and hangs up, but then a woman picks up the line. “Thank you for calling Dr. Guerin’s office, this is Rosa, how can I help you?”

Alex hesitates before blurting out, “Uh, I was hoping I could make an appointment with Dr. Guerin? My name is Alex Manes.”

There’s a pause before Rosa responds, “ _Captain_ Manes?”

“Uh, yeah,” Alex says nervously.

“Dr. Guerin said you might be calling and told me to fit you in as early as possible.” Fear prickles at Alex’s skin, not knowing how to respond to that statement. But luckily he doesn’t need to because Rosa continues, “Would tomorrow at 10:00 am work for you?”

“Yeah, yeah...I’ll be there.”

“Great,” Rosa says and gives him the address to the office.

* * *

Alex drives to the office, nerves alight and tightly gripping at the steering wheel. The idea of delving into his psyche is an uncomfortable thought, but doing it with someone like _Michael_ just makes the anxiety worse. He isn’t ashamed of his attraction to men - despite his father’s best efforts. He’s had boyfriends and flings in the past, and for a time there was a man who meant a great deal to him - David, Alex thinks with a private smile.

But Alex’s never felt such a sudden rush of attraction to someone. And certainly not one who is a professional partner. This is all new to him and the idea of laying himself so vulnerably to a man he feels so powerfully attracted to worries him.

He sits in the waiting room, leg bouncing as he waits for Rosa to inform Michael of his arrival. He takes in the office, it’s decorated with practical objects that ooze of a quiet wealth. Michael clearly has very refined taste or at least projects that image.

Rosa looks up from her desk and informs Alex that Dr. Guerin will see him now and gestures to the door next to her. He takes a deep breath and then opens it. Michael is sitting at a desk, looking every bit as handsome as he’d looked in Max’s office, golden eyes looking pleased that he was here. “Alex, I’m so glad you decided to come in. Please, have a seat wherever is comfortable and we’ll get started.”


	3. Michael

He’s pleased to see him. The Captain is a delicious morsel of tightly handled control, authority oozing out of his pores. The fact that the authority is mixed with a not small amount of fear and insecurity makes Michael’s teeth itch, makes him want to lick his neck and bite down firmly. He wanted the Captain the second he laid eyes on him. And one way or another, he always gets what he wants. 

He watches Alex’s eyes nervously flit around his office, taking in the pieces of art he’s carefully hand selected to show off the wealth he’s accumulated, but not to be flashy. Nothing is gaudy, nothing is screaming. It’s just. Tasteful. Like he wants everything else to be in his life. 

“Dr. Guerin.” Alex visually steeling himself as he meets Michael’s gaze is fascinating. 

“Please. I asked of you to call me Michael. It wouldn’t be fair to call you Alex, if I didn’t give the same courtesy in return.”

“Right. Michael, then.”

Michael nods, more like a tiny bow than a nod, an inclination he knows presents his neck most beautifully. He’s rewarded when Alex looks briefly. This will be most interesting. 

“Maria told me you might be looking to speak of more than just the case. I must admit I’m… intrigued by the idea.”

“Yeah. I’m not happy with the psych eval Max made you do.” Alex finally sits down, back ramrod straight in the most uncomfortable chair Michael has in his office. The chair rude people get to sit in. Alex doesn’t belong there. “But Maria does have some points. I could… use someone to talk to. Things have been. Challenging, I guess is the word for it.”

“There is no shame in seeking professional help, Alex. We all need it every now and then.”

“Sure. I just never expected to be one of them.”

“We never do,” Michael replies. “Not until we’re there. Come, let’s adjoin to the seating area. I prefer it when in session if you do not mind.”

Alex hesitates, and Michael is more intrigued than ever. He looks over to the plusher sofa, the rich leather chair. “You...were right back in Max’s office about my prosthetic. If I sit on a sofa that sinks too much I might have trouble getting up.”

“Then I will leave the chair to you, and I will sit on the sofa. The chair is decidedly firmer, I do believe you would feel more comfortable in it.” Michael stands up, pulling slightly on his jacket as he does. He catalogues the way Alex follows the movement, catalogues the way his eyes follow him almost involuntarily as he walks over to him. It’s the eyes of a soldier, the eyes of a man still at war. Even if the war is with himself. 

“Come,” he repeats, holding out a hand for Alex to take. He waits with bated breath to see if he does. He’s not disappointed. Alex’s hand is calloused, a working man’s hand. Someone who’s lived, and will live still. He intends it. 

“Thanks,” Alex says as he gets up on his feet, letting go of Michael’s hand straight away. Michael puts his hand on Alex’s shoulder instead, a light friendly squeeze. 

“It is no trouble.”

He moves over to the slate grey couch. It’s plusher than the leather chair, invites a feeling of home, of comfort. It’s a trick to make people feel relaxed in his office. It always works, even with him. He settles into it, leaning back and crossing one leg over the other, as he watches Alex sit in the leather chair. It’s just as comfortable, if firmer, it demands more respect. Alex looks lost in it, for a second, two. It’s when he takes a breath, straightens up, puts his hands on the seat rest that Michael again sees the authority mixed with insecurity. 

He must have this man for his own. 

“Tell me, Alex. What is it I can help you with? What is it you seek?”

One day, he will make that answer be ‘You, Michael.’ But that day is not today.

“I guess I just need someone to talk to? I know I have PTSD, I know I should’ve been in therapy years ago. But I just never. Went. Besides mandatory psych evals in the Air Force.” Alex’s breathing is controlled, calculated, almost as if he’s attached. Good, Michael can work with that.

“How many tours did you do?”

“Three. I lost my leg in the last one. IED that killed my entire squad besides me.”

“Survivor’s guilt?” It's obvious, but he still needs to know if Alex knows it.

“Sure, I guess.” Alex clears his throat. It makes Michael want to bite him. “I mean. Yes. I was single, alone. Everyone on my squad was married, engaged, and had families. They didn’t deserve to die.”

“Tell me of them.”

Alex’s mouth lifts up in a tiny smile. “Oh man, they were wild. Fallere was the biggest joker I had ever met, never met a practical joke he didn’t love, he always had our backs. Never met a human he didn’t love either. Samuelsen was the kindest and most gorgeous woman. And the things she could do with any kind of weapon? Hot, even for me as a gay man. And Rodriguez, he was like the best friend you never knew you needed. You ever needed anything, he was there, ready to back you up.” Alex grows somber. “Fallere was married, third kid on the way. He loved his wife and kids more than anything. Samuelsen, engaged to a Marine. We gave her shit for that, but she didn’t care. She loved him. Rodriguez had just met someone, a guy he went to high school with that he always had a crush on. He was so excited to go home and see him again.”

“You loved your squad.”

“Yeah. They were my family,” Alex replies.

“How did it feel, losing your leg?”

“I don’t know. I don’t remember. I’ve been told I raged and cried when I woke up at the hospital in Germany. Now it just feels… weird. Unnatural, in a way because I know something is missing. Like I’m leaving something behind that I know I can’t get back.”

“Do you experience Phantom Limb Pain?”

“Yeah. Every day. Not badly, but I still feel like my leg is there.” Alex takes a deep breath again. “It’s… worse, when I work cases. I put myself in the minds of criminals, and I think I have two legs again. Just for a few seconds, but when I remember. My leg hurts. Even when it’s not there.”

“Hmm.” He can work with that. “Perhaps you forget because your brain is not used to working cases with only the one limb. Do you like working cases?”

Alex takes a long time to answer, brow furrowed. “Yeah. But my empathy. It feels more like a curse than a gift. Even though I know it helps people.”

“And you like that, don’t you Alex. Helping people.”

Alex nods hesitantly, and Michael knows he has an in. A way to get Alex back in the field, back to see some beautiful handiwork. Perhaps he can show him some of his own, too.

“How about this, work through this Rio Grande Ripper case with me and perhaps we can devise a way for you to not forget your leg, perhaps even work through some of your PLP. Working through the fear you have of your empathy-”

“I never said I fear it,” Alex interrupts.

“Don’t you?” Michael asks in return. He doesn’t get an answer. “Working through your issues in the field, as well as in this office, will most likely help your quality of life. I would be honored to help you, if you’d let me.”

He gives Alex his most earnest smile when his gaze turns to Michael. He’s relieved when Alex smiles back. Bingo. Though he gets curious when the smile drops and Alex’s brow furrows again.

“How much do you charge?” Ah, the age old question.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“But-”

“The Bureau wants you back in their employment, they can pay for it. Especially since Max sprung a psych eval on you yesterday,” Michael says. He’ll have to get Isobel on his side to convince Max, but he will do it. Max owes him as well.

Alex looks skeptical, but he nods. “Okay. I guess I’ll have to trust you.”

“Give me a month. If you feel it doesn’t work, then we stop. If it helps, we continue. Agreed?”

“Yeah, okay. Agreed.” Michael gets up and extends his hand towards Alex. He strokes his thumb lightly down the back of Alex’s hand as they shake. He enjoys it when Alex’s eyes flash in interest for a second.

“Good. Then we have an accord. I will have Rosa call you to set up our next appointment in office tomorrow. Though I dare presume I’ll see you in the field, or Max’s office before then,” he says as he reluctantly lets go of Alex’s hand. He gets one more stroke of his thumb in before he does, though.

“It was good talking to you today,” Alex says with a tiny smile. “Maybe I should listen to Maria more often.”

“She is a smart woman. Many of us would do well to listen to Maria Deluca,” Michael replies, preening inside when Alex lets out a huff of laughter.

“I’ll let her know you said so. Okay, I’m gonna get out of your hair for now. I’ll see you soon, Michael.”

“You most certainly will.” 

He watches Alex walk out of his office, taking note of how he walks, his posture, any signs of a limp. It’s not really there, Alex has taken great precautions to never let anyone see that he’s missing a leg. It’s something he will have to dive into if he’s going to figure out what makes Captain Alex Manes tick. And he wants to figure it out, wants to carve out a piece for him, wants to cook him dinner and get him tipsy on wine so he can see the flush in his cheeks. It’s been a while since someone has interested him as much as Alex has. He can’t wait to figure out why.

But first of all he needs a plan. Therapy is easy enough, he can do that in his sleep. Working in the field with Alex is where it becomes unpredictable, where it can all fall apart. Alex has a gift, a clear cut way of seeing the perpetrator in action in his head. He needs to be careful if he wants Alex in any way, he has to play the long game. Which means no jumping into bed with him as soon as he can. Perhaps he needs to woo him, dinners and drinks and touch before he makes any sort of a move. But he is also a man, and any man honest with himself had needs. 

He picks up the phone and dials a number he knows without question.

“Dr. Deluca’s office, this is Tess speaking. How may I help you?”

“Hello Tess, this is Michael Guerin. May I speak to Maria should she be available?”

“Oh, Dr. Guerin!” He can hear the smile in her voice. “I’ll put you right on through.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it.”

He doesn’t have to wait long for Maria’s beautiful tone of voice. 

“How did it go?” He delights himself in the curiosity and nervousness in her voice. Almost as if she was expecting it to fail. For him to fail. Though she does know better.

“It went splendidly, Alex is a very fascinating man. We made an agreement, I have a month to prove to him that it is working, both in the field and office.”

“You got him back in the field after one session? I’m impressed.”

“You did lay the groundwork.”

“Now you’re just trying to flatter me.” He is, but she does deserve it. Maria is a wonderful psychiatrist on her own. “How fascinating do you think he is? Do I detect an interest, Michael?”

“Perhaps,” he answers. He can never keep anything hidden from her anyway. Well, almost anything. “But it will have to stay professional. He is my client, after all.”

“Smart thinking. So what are you doing tonight?”

“I was planning on asking you over for dinner. Maybe some wine?”

“I’d love to, your food is to die for.” If she only knew. “Should I pack an overnight bag?”

“Why yes, I do believe you should.”

She huffs a laugh. “I will. See you at eight?”

“Perfect, Maria. Now I must get back to it, I will see you tonight.”

They make courteous goodbyes and he hangs up, knowing he can distract himself in the company and feel of the lovely Maria Deluca for a few hours. Though he has no doubt that Captain Alexander Manes will enter his thoughts again post haste. He’s very much looking forward to that too.


	4. Alex

Alex arrives at the third crime scene in as many days. He’s exhausted and is the last to arrive, forcing himself to trudge the distance from where he parked to where his colleagues are gathered. He sees Liz and Kyle examining the body, each crouching down at different parts of the corpse to take pictures and collect samples. Meanwhile, Max and Michael are locked in a discussion, heads bowed as they undoubtedly take in the scene before them.

He wants to just completely avoid talking to them and just look at the body with Kyle and Liz, but there’s no way he can sidestep Max. When he finally makes his way to them, Max scowls at him, “Nice of you to show up.”

Alex wants to snipe back, he’s barely slept in the past three days, haunted by the things he’s seen at the two previous crime scenes. Things that feel a little too wrong, a little too...right. Instead, he merely scowls back, “Well?”

“Another Ripper body,” Max begins, unnecessarily, “Young woman, healthy, Jane Doe right now. We haven’t been able to identify her yet, but her picture will be on the news later so we can get an ID.”

“What was taken this time?”

Michael speaks up, quietly says, “Her lungs.”

“Left us a nice flower bouquet in the cavity,” Max supplies.

Alex closes his eyes, so far it’s been stomach, liver, and now the lungs. Nothing really connects them; flowers left in this cavity, a fishing lure in yesterday’s, and a small figurine of a bear in the first. “Okay,” he says with an exhale, “Let me see the body.”

They walk together to the corpse and Max asks Liz and Kyle to take a break so Alex can have the field to himself. Alex sits next to the body, a mournful sound comes out of him before closing his eyes and letting the pendulum swing.

 _She has no family, she’s always been alone. People don’t care about her so she doesn’t care about others. She said something wrong, angered the wrong person. It was a slight she might not have ever noticed she made. But_ he _noticed, and she had to pay._

Things get jumbled in his head, he can’t _see_ clearly. Something’s missing but he doesn’t know _what_. It all feels familiar and makes Alex start doubting whether his initial profile at Max’s office about this not being the Ripper was right. It’s not a usual Ripper case, these victims had all been young people. It’s not like the Ripper to have consistent kills, especially not in such a close timeframe. But it still _feels_ like the Ripper, and he can’t figure out what’s off.

“There’s something missing about these bodies, something that feels very much like the Ripper but also like it’s missing his usual...flourish,” Alex finally says, after opening his eyes. He gets up, dusts his pants off, and looks at Max. “I can’t get a good read on the bodies. I was so sure before this wasn’t Ripper, but aside from the usual flourish, everything matches up.”

Max’s lips flatten and he turns his ire toward Michael, “And you? What do you think?”

Alex also looks over at him and Michael’s eyes have narrowed slightly, but once Alex looks over, he smiles and his eyes have cleared. “I agree with Alex,” he replies calmly, “Something felt wrong about these bodies, but I could not figure out what. Something is certainly missing.”

“Do either of you want to enlighten me on what is missing?” Max demands.

“Gee Max thank you for asking, I’ve known all along what motivates the Ripper and I’ve just been holding off until you asked,” Alex retorts sarcastically.

“Watch it, Alex,” Max huffs, face thunderous.

But Alex isn’t done, he’s been niggled by Max all week and it’s starting to fray at his nerves, “You know, you’re the head of the FBI here in New Mexico. Don’t _you_ have any theories?”

Max is furious, “I had a good theory on the Shrike and how to apprehend him before you decided to go in guns ablazing. We could have saved that family.”

Alex sees _red_ , “Fuck _off_ , Max. I’m getting out of here, give me a copy of the damn photos once you all develop them.” He angrily marches away, leaving Max and Michael to watch him furiously get in his car and drive away.

* * *

When Alex arrives at Michael's office, he greets Alex with a smile and doesn’t remark on Alex’s angry storm off, for which he’s eternally grateful. Although he felt right in the moment, embarrassment started to creep in after he’d driven away from the crime scene.

They’ve had a few sessions up to this, passing the agreed upon month trial period and things have been progressing well between the two. They’ve established a good rapport and Alex has started feeling more relaxed in Michael’s presence. Michael has been extremely helpful in honing the profile on the Ripper and despite Michael’s strange reaction at the crime scene earlier, he’s agreed with most of Alex’s observations.

However, the reprise doesn’t last long, because even though he’s half expecting the question, Alex is still knocked off balance when Michael asks about the Minnesota Shrike. “Today was rather stressful between you and Max,” he begins with a bland observation.

Alex laughs a little darkly, “We get like that sometimes, I just forgot about how our tempers flare on the field. I wasn’t expecting him to throw the Minnesota Shrike in my face like that though.”

Michael tilts his head and studies Alex for a moment before commanding in his silky voice,“Tell me about the Hobbs family.”

Alex doesn’t want to; it’s been an emotionally charged day and talking about the Shrike never leaves him feeling good. But. He had promised Guerin that he would try - actually _try_ \- therapy with him and denying a simple request didn’t seem like he was putting forth much effort. So, instead, he nervously bounces his leg and takes a deep breath, “It...was just that, a family. Father used his daughter as bait so he could cannibalize girls that looked like her.”

“Yes, I have read the case file,” Michael replies gently, “I want to know how you felt about it. Does it still weigh on your conscience? Is that why you left fieldwork for so long?”

“It was too much too soon,” Alex says quietly, “I was fine consulting on cases here, local. They were fucked up but contained, the mushroom bodies out by the bosque, angel corpses, corpses turned into _instruments_. It was all one after the other, but I was good, I could handle it. Then Max asked me to consult on the Shrike, my first out of state case, far from home and much more complicated than the previous consults.”

“It took you out of the routine you had established after leaving the Air Force,” Michael surmises.

Alex gives a curt nod “And Max...he’s relentless. He just kept pushing and pushing. When we finally found Hobbs, and I busted through the door and saw him slit his daughter’s throat...I just...I wasn’t there anymore,” he reveals quietly.

“Did you think you were back overseas?” Michael probes when Alex doesn’t continue.

“Yes...and no,” Alex has a faraway look in his eyes, like he’s remembering exactly where that moment took him. “My...childhood was not a good one. If my father were a different man...perhaps he could have been Hobbs.”

He tilts his head, “You have never spoken of your father.”

Alex laughs derisively, “I try not to when I can help it.” He levels Michael with a look that he hopes gets his point across.

He smiles graciously, “And then what happened?”

It takes Alex a moment to realize he’s redirected the conversation back to the Hobbs case. “I started disassociating a lot more. Getting too far into those minds just messed with mine and I couldn’t take it anymore. I would wake up and be walking down a street with no memory of how I got there. That’s when I told Max I wouldn’t consult anymore, took up the teaching position, but…”

“Uncle Max came knocking again,” Michael finishes for him. “Do you find it difficult to say no to Max?”

Alex fidgets in his seat before responding, “Max means well, he’s just willing to do whatever it takes to get results.”

“Even if it means having no regard for you or your mental health?”

“Are you trying to put a wedge between me and Max?” Alex asks, half joking half disbelieving.

“I am merely commenting on what I have seen and what we have discussed here,” Michael replies, placating. “It’s my job to look out for your mental stability now.”

Alex eyes Michael suspiciously and the minutes tick by tensely. Finally, Michael relaxes into a smile and breaks the tension, “I just want to make sure that you don’t feel as though you are coerced into this work. That you don’t associate Max with your father.”

He barks out an incredulous laugh, “Oh, Dr. Guerin, if you knew my father, you would know that Max is _nothing_ like him.”

“I don’t know him,” Michael agrees easily, “You have never spoken of him and just in this session alone, you made it clear you never want to talk about him.”

Alex’s face sours immediately. “My father is an evil man,” he says, quiet and measured, “I’ve spent most of my life trying to forget about all the shit he put me through.”

“Alex…” Michael begins gently, “You are here to deal with some of the trauma of working in the field, I think talking about your father is worth discussing here as well.”

“What do you want me to say?” Alex asks defiantly, “That sometimes when I’m at crime scenes I can see the work of my father?”

Michael raises an eyebrow, “Do you?”

His face falls as though he revealed too much. “I - I shouldn’t have said that. I was angry that you were pushing me,” Alex lies, hoping it comes off convincing.

Michael is silent for a moment, he studies Alex face who watches back, face upturned and not backing down from the scrutiny. After another tense moment, Michael smiles indulgently at him, “My apologies, Alex. I am much more direct with many of my other patients and I need to reevaluate how to handle your therapy.”

Alex sighs and offers a shaky smile in return, “I’m sorry too, I’m too new to this and it’s difficult sometimes because I consider you a friend outside of the session.”

“I am glad,” Michael replies, smile still in place, “I consider you a friend as well.”

They move on to other topics, away from the hotbed of the Minnesota Shrike and Alex’s father and the rest of the hour continues without further incident.

* * *

When Alex gets home, he sits in the middle of his living room and lets his pack swarm him. He’s lost in thought for what feels like hours, going over his conversation with Michael. His mind skating dangerously close to thoughts of his father. Thoughts that lead to an uncomfortable speculation. _If my father had been a different man, perhaps he could have been Hobbs_ , he’d said. It wasn’t entirely untrue, but Jesse would never have committed crimes during the prime of his Air Force career. But now? Alex shakes his head as if to shake the thought out of his mind. Just because he hated his father doesn’t mean he’s a killer.

But some crime scenes just felt too… _familiar_.

Alex pushes up off the floor, much to the chagrin of his pack, and begins to pace his small cabin. He needs to burn off this restless energy, he’s getting worked up over things that just aren’t grounded in facts. He lets all seven dogs rush out his back door and he throws balls for some of them as he sits on the back deck. Winston stays on the deck with him, keeping guard for both Alex and the rest of the little ones. It calms Alex down, but he still can’t shake the feeling of dread prickling at his neck.

* * *

He wakes feeling refreshed the next morning and goes through his morning routine without incident. As he’s getting ready to make the drive into Albuquerque, he grabs the mail and stuffs it into the passenger seat, deciding to go through it once he gets to his office at the Bureau.

The drive is pleasant and his thoughts are blessedly free from the spiral he almost went down the night before. Alex parks and makes his way into the Bureau with his stack of mail, but when he gets into his office, Max is already sitting there. He sighs and places the mail on the desk, “What?”

Max laughs ruefully, “Sorry to barge in so early. I just wanted to make sure we were okay after yesterday?”

Alex relaxes, he half expected for them to get into another round of blows or that he was bringing bad news. “We’re okay,” Alex says. “I forgot how tense things get on crime scenes. We all want to find this guy.”

“We do,” Max agrees readily, getting up from his chair, “Just wanted to make sure you knew it was nothing personal.”

“I know, Max,” Alex replies, getting out of the doorway to let Max leave.

Max smiles and gestures to his desk, “I left you the latest pictures from yesterday’s crime scene. Let me know when you want to go over them.” At Alex’s acknowledging nod, Max begins to make his exit but something on the desk catches his eye, “Ah got one of these too huh? Should be an interesting evening,” he says tapping an envelope at the top of his stack of mail. And with that cryptic statement, he strolls out of Alex’s office.

Alex frowns and goes over to the stack of mail and sees an embossed envelope sitting there. In neat and elegant handwriting, it has Alex’s address but no return address. He carefully opens the envelope and pulls out a thick cardstock invitation, also handwritten, asking for the pleasure of Alex’s company at Dr. Michael Guerin’s residence for a dinner party for this Saturday.


	5. Michael

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would give you recipes but thruthfully they're all in Norwegian. Also, yes they are called British Faggots and they are delicious.

It’s a calculated risk to invite the individuals he does for dinner. He knows fairly well how Maria and Max will behave, and Isobel to a certain extent. Alex will be the wild card, but Michael is truly ready to see how Alex’s empathy will react to a dinner party like this. It will be filled with interesting tidbits, he’s sure of it, and Alex meeting Isobel will be one of the most interesting.

Isobel is an enigma, wrapped in an icy blonde form with impeccable sense of style, one Michael admires very much. She’s the one he goes to, after all, when he needs a release from all the secrets he holds. She’s like him in many ways, though her taste isn’t the same as his. They still have a bond he cannot explain. Only that it has never been sexual, and never will be. He respects her as a doctor, as someone who’s not rude though she is direct, as a friend, even.

He also knows Isobel adores antagonizing Max, even if they are related which makes her a delightful guest at this party, if only so he can manipulate his way around a little.

Maria is there as a friend to Alex, something he needs. It also gives him ample opportunity to see how Alex will react to any inkling of a relationship between himself and Maria. Of course their ‘thing’ is of convenience, but Maria generally doesn’t stop herself from touching him since they are intimately familiar. And that might be very interesting indeed.

As for Max. He’s been in Michael’s home many times, eating dinner and for easy conversation. He knows Michael’s home, feels comfortable in it. That will help in his puzzle, as will this night to see where he should place them. Alex is the only one that hasn’t been there several times before. It will be interesting indeed.

Still, as he gathers them in his dining room and sits them down to begin the dinner he is pleasantly surprised that the talk is flowing easy, Beethoven’s violin concerto in D Major, Opus 61 playing softly in the background. They know each other well, all but Alex but even he knows most of them. He still finds it interesting that Isobel takes the seat next to Alex easily, the only one she hasn’t met before. She usually finds ways to stay close to Michael, but this time she concedes that seat to Alex. He gives her a subtle look, but she only lifts her lip in a slight smile. She has her own agenda then, very well.

He will keep that thought for later, instead going to the kitchen to plate the first course. Everything must be perfect.

“Before we begin, you must be warned,” Michael says, a glint in his eyes. “Nothing on this table is vegetarian.” He appreciates the laughter that gives him, the way he always does.

He serves Isobel, Alex, Maria, first. Maxwell and himself last. 

“Meatballs? Seems easy for you.”

“Ah, yes, but these are of a classic British recipe made with pork’s belly, liver, and lungs, alongside onions, parsley, sage, and breadcrumbs. They are then wrapped in caul fat and cooked in the oven, served with some onion gravy. A simple dish, but with the most spectacular taste,” he answers. 

“Caul fat?”

“The membrane around a pig's organs.” He so delights in seeing Max turn slightly green.

“Okay, this is not something I’ve ever eaten before but I’m willing to try it,” Alex says and Michael can’t help but want him more.

“Oh he’s an amazing cook, Alex,” Maria says, lightly touching the back of Michael’s hand as she does. “You won’t be disappointed.”

He sends her a quick smile. He does not need her to defend his cooking abilities, he knows they’re sublime, but he appreciates it nonetheless. He appreciates it even more when he sees the slight frown on Alex’s face as he looks down on where Maria’s hand is still touching Michael’s.

“With the British Faggots, as is the name of these, I’ve chosen a Chardonnay from Sonoma Coast in California, 2007 vintage, from the producer Littorai. This is their Charles Heintz Vineyard. A very full bodied and buttery chardonnay with hints of spice and honeydew melon.”

He serves them rich glasses from the carafe, his chardonnay glasses instantly releasing the aroma of buttery acidity and notes of oak he so loves from a wine like it. It will pair perfectly with the Faggots.

“Did you just call them British Faggots?” Isobel asks incredulously, but he can hear the tone of delight in her voice. This is definitely something right up her alley as she can now watch the reactions to the name and bring it around whenever she needs. A classic Isobel move.

“Indeed. Perhaps not the best name in this day and age, but a delicacy it is.”

“Am I gonna have to write you up for the lung, Doctor? You know it’s not legal in the States,” Max says, always the police officer though his smile is teasing. Michael sends him a thin smile as he takes his first bite. So very rude, in this company.

“Absolutely not, Max. I buy the entire animal and do all the partitioning of the pig myself. I believe it is allowed, then.” The irritation soars within him, but he’s careful not to let it show. Though Max’s chagrined look means he was possibly not as successful as he would’ve liked.

“You’re right. It is. And this is very good. Sorry for doubting it.”

“Have no fear, Max. I shall have you for dinner again,” Michael replies, making the table ripple with laughter. “Alex, care to share your thoughts as a first time guest at this table?”

“Uh, well. The meat is… smokier than I suspected. But it fits really nice with the sage and parsley, the pork belly gives it an extra bit of fat which rounds out the taste. The wine is really good with it.”

“Thank you, I’m glad you think so.”

“But you’re right,” Alex continues. “It’s not the best name.”

Isobel snorts at the easy sarcasm in Alex’s voice, making them all laugh again. So far, the dinner is a success. But he still has two courses to go. He moves them along, gently but firmly steering them in the direction he wants the dinner to go. He knows Isobel has his motives well in hand, but he does still surprise her occasionally, especially when he shows Maria easy affections. He can see her calculating Alex’s response to it as he does. The bitter smell of jealousy is like how he would imagine cocaine to be to an addict. It’s exhilarating.

Still, he serves the main course the same way he did the first. Isobel, Alex, Maria. Max, himself. Same with the wine, pouring rich glasses of the red wine in syrah glasses, inhaling the notes of cherry, strawberry, and vanilla as discreetly as he can. It wouldn’t do to give himself away too much.

“With our main course, I’m serving a wine from Crozes-Hermitage which is in the north region of the Rhóne valley of France. The producer is called Guigal, and this Syrah is from 2003. It will go marvelous with our meat.”

“Is this beef?”

“Actually it’s reindeer tenderloin,” Michael says, the glorious feeling of getting one up on Max Evans simmering in his belly. Especially with how he’s been treating Alex as of late. “Served with a chanterelle cheesecake, blueberry sauce, and hasselback potatoes filled with my own herbal butter and a sprinkling of parmesan cheese.”

“Michael, that sounds… exquisite. How do you even come up with these dishes?”

“Many of them are recipes from home. Others are simply things I have gathered along the years.” Michael smiles. “Occasionally even I go looking online for new things that might catch the mind.”

“Well this is absolutely delicious,” Alex says. It warms his inside.

“I am glad you think so, I will most definitely have you for dinner at a later date if these are the compliments I get.”

“I’m glad.” The smile on Alex’s face tells him that he truly is glad, a sweet smell so close to joy wafting from him.

“Tell me, how is your latest case going?”

“It’s going,” Max responds, casting a weary eye at Alex. “We’re having some difficulty placing some of the details, especially for the last murder. Like something is missing from the overall case.”

“You mean _I’m_ having difficulty placing details,” Alex says as he takes a large sip of the red wine.

“No, I didn’t mean that.” Michael can hear a certain annoyance in Max’s voice. “You said it yourself, you’re not working this case alone. This is on all of us, we’re just not seeing the entire picture yet.”

“Maybe, but you did bring me in for that reason, Max.”

“Yeah but I’m still not going to blame you for it.”

“Maybe you need a break, Alex. These things do take a toll on you,” Maria says, trying to be helpful. Michael knows it’s the wrong thing to say with how frustration starts wafting off of Alex.

“I need to be helpful, Maria, and do my job. That’s what I was brought in for. The rest Michael can help me with,” Alex answers. “In therapy,” he quickly tacks on when Maria tilts her head at him.

“And help I will. In whichever way you need me to.”

Alex smiles gratefully, tipping his head down towards the plate as he continues eating. Michael sees Maria softly watch Alex as well, her eyes flicking over to Michael every so often like she’s trying to figure out her own puzzle.

Still, the conversation flows easily, though the tick of frustration in Alex still lingers even if he no longer shows it. It makes Michael admire his strength even more, the calculation in Alex’s behavior perhaps not intentional, but very much there.

He brings the entire dessert out to his table, preferring to serve it with a bit of flourish if he can.

“And for the dessert, we have a swiss roll with lemon and meringue filling, topped with homemade vanilla ice cream, a touch of whipped cream and blackberries.” He cuts the cake carefully in even pieces, decorating gently with a perfect ice cream egg, a dollop of cream, and three blackberries on top in an even triangle, serving it in the same manner as before. Isobel, Alex, Maria. Max. Himself.

“The dessert wine is a Pineau des Charentes from Chateau Montifaud, a cognac producer obviously from Cognac in France. Enjoy,” he says as he finishes pouring, holding his own glass up in a toast. “And thank you all for joining me for dinner, I’m very pleased none of you missed it.”

“It was our pleasure,” Maria says with a smile. “You always make such amazing dinners so it’s such an honor to be invited.”

“I’m always happy to have you for dinner. All of you,” he replies, smiling at all of them. He lets his smile linger a second longer on Maria, and is not disappointed to hear a small inhale from his right. 

“Now Isobel, you must tell me of your new office,” he says and is not disappointed when Isobel launches into an explanation of her decoration. He’s delighted Isobel decided to come out of retirement, honestly delighted. Even if he understands it was a hard decision after her patient, Noah, who fancied himself in love with her attacked her. He’s glad he was able to convince her after a lovely dinner the two of them had, he did so miss going to her for appointments. Even if he never truly stopped when she was retired. She never could say no to him.

Isobel’s explanation and subsequent questions last for the entirety of dessert, and Michael is glad he can move them along as easily as he wanted.

“Please, join me in the sitting room for some other refreshments before we move on to coffee,” Michael says as he rises from his seat at the dinner table, his arm sweeping in the direction he wants them to go. 

“Don’t you want help cleaning up?” Alex asks. 

“Thank you, but no. I would rather enjoy your company while you are guests in my home. All of your company,” he tacks on, giving all of them a pleasant smile though his eyes flick back to Alex. He can smell the curiosity wafting from Isobel and Maria, knowing they’ve noticed the care he’s shown Alex this dinner. It pleases him greatly. Another piece of a puzzle working itself into place. “Now please, go sit down and I will join you shortly.”

He watches them leave as he cleans the table quickly. Not too quick as to damage his china or glasses, but quickly enough to get back to them in a reasonable amount of time. He doesn’t want to miss the conversations, they might say something he can use for later after all. He leaves the dishes stacked, the wine glasses with a bit of water, ready to be cleaned when they leave. It will be his time to think and see if he needs to make adjustments to his plans.

He finds the bottle of port easily in his wine room, taking it with him as he brings the platter of cheese and chocolates to the sitting room, where everything else has already been set up. Isobel and Max are sitting on the sofa, having a discussion of some sorts while Maria and Alex are looking out the windows. His view of the forest surrounding his property really is spectacular from there.

“This view is amazing, Michael,” Alex says as he sees him walk in. “I’d love to take my dogs for a run around here sometime.”

“You are more than welcome to should you wish it,” Michael replies as he pours the port in the glasses waiting at the table. Alex doesn’t reply as he and Maria join them, but Michael can still see how delighted he is. Still, he holds up his glass in a silent toast, waiting for the rest of them before he takes a drink of his port. Delicious.

“This is really good port.”

“Yes, ‘92 was an excellent vintage for port. Though it’s still recommended to hold off from drinking,” Michael says. “It’s not quite... ready, the bottle still has teaching moments left in it. But it will be, with time. And patience.”

“I was born in 92,” Alex says. His eyes are crinkled as if he has something on his mind.

“Ah, indeed you are. Now I was born in ‘85, that was also quite the excellent vintage for port. Good to hold, but also quite ready to drink. If one so desires.”

“How about ‘93?” Isobel asks. He knows exactly why she asks.

“Poor, almost ghastly vintage. I would never drink it,” he replies and watches how Max scowls. Poor Maxwell does take things quite too much to heart. “But let us get back to the port at hand. Tell me, Alex, what flavors do you discern from this?”

“Uh, I’m not much of an expert but I can try?” Michael nods encouragingly. “It kind of smells like black fruits to me? Blackberries and cassis, maybe?”

“Cassis, interesting. Not blackcurrant, but the liquor?”

“Yeah, I think so. Is that wrong?”

“No, my friend. That is very correct. It also has notes of licorice, sweet tobacco, and vanilla, even a light hint of hazelnuts at the finish. Makes it an excellent companion for this Stilton cheese, or the darker chocolate for those not a partaker of blue cheese,” he replies, popping a piece of the blue cheese into his mouth. He watches Alex carefully as he hesitates, but ultimately takes a piece of the blue cheese as well, popping it into his mouth and chewing slowly as he takes a large sip of the port in his hand. 

“My palate isn’t as good as yours.”

“Give it time.” Teachable indeed.

“Well Michael. You’ve sure showed off your love of port wine,” Isobel says in a haughty tone, a slight smirk on her face as she eats a piece of chocolate with her port.

“I do hope my love for port isn’t the only thing apparent this evening,” he answers back. He knows she will understand his meaning, the way she understands so many things about it. Isobel is a challenge, a spectrum of her own. And utterly fascinating at the same time.

“Oh, no. Many things are coming to light here,” she says. “Many interesting pairings and flavors, it’s been wonderful.”

“Yeah, the meal was amazing and so is this,” Max says with a smile on his face. “Thank you for a wonderful evening, Dr. Guerin.”

“Ah, thankfully the evening is not over yet. Why don’t you enjoy the rest of this while I go make us some coffee, or would anyone prefer tea?”

As he anticipated, coffee is the preferred drink. Americans. He leaves them for the kitchen, boiling water as he readies 5 coffee cups and his Chemex, carefully measuring coffee on a scale with his pre-ground beans, setting it all on a tray as the water boils. He brings it out to the sitting room, where only Maria and Max are left.

“Did Isobel and Alex leave us?” He asks. 

“Isobel wanted to show off your library, you know how much she loves doing that since she helped you decorate it,” Max answers. Michael nods his thanks before he walks over to the library that Isobel did indeed help decorate. He stops outside the door when he hears Isobel talking.

“You should be careful around him,” he hears Isobel tell Alex. Something close to a fire burns in his stomach at the words, but he will hold off. He needs to know why Isobel would say them.

“What, why?” Alex asks of her, sounding perplexed.

“Michael is a brilliant man. But it’s easy being consumed by him and his presence, and we wouldn't want you to lose yourself in him.”

Alex laughs nervously. “He’s my therapist, Isobel. And a friend. I’m just grateful for his company.”

Isobel hums as she starts to walk away from Alex. “If you say so.”

She walks out of the room, pausing for a minor moment when she sees him but all she does is wink before she moves past him. Pushing her own agenda indeed. He still walks into the library to see Alex standing there, biting his lip and softly wringing his hands.

“Are you alright, Alex?” He asks softly as not to startle him. Alex looks up, sending him an obvious insincere smile.

“Yeah, I’m fine, Michael. Just thinking.”

He walks over and takes Alex’s hands in his, his eyes meeting Alex’s. He holds them, as he softly runs his hands over Alex’s once, twice, thrice.

“I do hope you know that you can come to me should you need anything.”

“I know, thanks,” Alex says with a nod. His smile is shifting slowly into a sincere one. He’s beautiful.

“I’m glad.” He gives Alex’s hands one last stroke before he lets them go. “Shall we join the rest for coffee?”

“Coffee sounds good.”

Alex moves before him and Michael follows, unable to completely keep his eyes away from Alex’s strong back, from where his waist tapers off and his shapely behind begins, from the strength he can see in the thighs. He will be a marvel to gift wrap one day, if he plays his puzzle correctly.

But before that, he will place his pieces and wait. And right now, coffee seems like the perfect place to start.


	6. Alex

After Michael’s dinner party, Alex lays awake in his bed, quietly brooding. It was exhilarating to see Michael in his element, serving his guests and quietly preening under their praise. But something sits uneasy with him, an emotion he doesn’t want to identify even though he knows exactly what it is.

Seeing the way that Maria and even _Isobel_ orbited around him made him feel irritated. Perhaps it was from spending so much time with just the two of them, but he hated not having Michael’s sole attention. And every time that Michael did focus in on him, it made his skin light up; a feeling that he didn’t even get to enjoy because then he’d catch Isobel’s eye and she had a thoughtful and _knowing_ look directed at him. It made his skin crawl, as though he’d been caught doing something wrong and she found it highly amusing.

And then her warning to him, to stay away from him so he wouldn’t be consumed by Michael. It had unsettled him even as he tried to laugh it off. But Alex has always felt safe in Michael’s presence, from almost the moment they met - comforted in a way he’s never felt with someone else, not even his unit when he’d served.

Alex feels exhausted with all of these warring emotions within him. He also feels restless, like energy is vibrating under his skin and he’s almost tempted to leash his pack and take a night run with them. But that thought tugs him right back to Michael and his offer to take the pack running near his home.

He groans and flips over on the bed, face buried in the pillow to try to still his racing thoughts. He feels a wet nose against his neck and when he peers out from the pillow, Buffy is lying next to him and starts wagging her tail when she sees his face. Her face is so earnest it makes Alex smile and snuggle up closer to her, deciding these are problems for another day.

* * *

Come Monday, Alex’s mind is a little less foggy from the dinner party. He feels more relaxed and happier and when he bumps into Max in the kitchen, he’s in a similar mood. “Did you have a good time Saturday?”

Alex shrugs a shoulder noncommittally. “It was fun, I had no idea Michael could cook like that.”

“He definitely makes cooking an art-form,” Max agrees.

“It was also interesting to meet Isobel,” he says with a half smile.

Max laughs ruefully, “She’s a troublemaker, loves gossip.”

“You never talk about her,” Alex says carefully.

Max merely shrugs, “We used to be close, but not so much anymore. That was the first time we’d seen each other in a few weeks.”

Alex mentally crosses Max off his list that might have had Isobel warn Alex off of Michael and smiles at Max, “Family, huh?”

Max nods and makes a _what can you do_ face and segues back to work. “Have you had a chance to look at the photos from last week?”

“Still profiling, I’ll try to get you something by the end of the week,” Alex explains grabbing his mug of coffee and heading out to his office.

The body from last week had been ID’d; her name had been Stef, she was 17, and had run away from home three months prior. Alex did some digging into her background and found out she came from a Mormon background, her parents were very strict. There was a correlation between her running away and that strict background, but Alex still hasn’t made it yet. But he feels close.

* * *

The following day, Maria drops by his office around noon and invites him out to lunch. It’s been three days since dinner, but Alex still feels something itching under his skin when he thinks too much about her and Michael.

They sit in the FBI cafeteria and make small talk. The itch feels like it’s growing, but he ignores it for as long as he can. “Do you and Isobel know each other well?” he asks instead.

“Isobel?” Maria repeats and tilts her head, “Not really. I met her through Michael when I was still working on my PhD, but we really only see each other at gatherings like Saturday.”

Another name crossed off his list. It seems like for whatever reason Isobel sought him out to give him the warning, it was out of her own volition rather than someone close to Alex being concerned. He doesn’t know what to do with the information and decides to sit with it later when he’s alone.

Maria doesn’t seem to notice how quiet he’s gotten and continues to talk about Michael and how they’ve known each other for many years, how much she respects his work, and on and on, causing the itch under Alex’s skin to become impossible to ignore.

“What’s the deal between you and Michael?” Alex finally blurts out, interrupting her.

Maria startles at the abruptness of the question, but composes herself quickly. She puts the fork down and wipes her mouth carefully before answering simply, “We’re just friends.”

“Friends?” Alex scoffs, “Really?”

She studies him and he refuses to squirm under her assessing gaze. “Well. And sometimes more.”

“More,” Alex repeats, testing the word out. It gives him an unpleasant feeling and he feels hot everywhere. More so when he looks up and sees that Maria is still watching him carefully.

“Alex,” she begins, softly and measured yet it still sounds like a harsh reproach and Alex flinches. “He’s your therapist.”

His skin feels tight and he fumbles a bit, “I know that. He’s my friend, and so are you, I was just wondering what was going on there.”

“Friends,” it’s her turn to repeat the word. “But you want something else. More.”

“It’s like you said, he’s my therapist,” Alex finally regains his footing.

She eyes him speculatively, “But if he weren’t?”

“It doesn’t matter. He is,” he replies firmly but he knows she doesn’t believe him.

Nevertheless, she smiles and dispels the tension. “Okay,” she says simply and changes the subject to the Ripper case.

* * *

The week continues to move slowly after that. Alex is working furiously on developing the profile for Max and he feels no closer to figuring out his emotions toward Michael. He calls Rosa early on Thursday to cancel his appointment with Michael so he can focus a little bit more on work. At least, that’s what he tells himself. It has nothing to do with the fact that he feels unprepared to see Michael again alone.

Of course, Michael doesn’t let him brood too long and shows up unannounced at the Bureau on Friday.

Alex walks into his office to find Michael sitting there, looking like he belongs as he carefully reads a book. He almost feels like he’s intruding on _Michael’s_ space rather than the other way around when Michael looks up and smiles at him. “Hello Alex,” he greets warmly.

“Michael. This is a surprise,” Alex says by way of greeting, sidling around the chair Michael is sitting in to make his way behind his desk.

Michael’s smile is still firmly in place by the time Alex sits. “Are you avoiding me?”

“Because I missed a session?” Alex asks, opting to play ignorant. “I’ve been busy with this case.”

“Yes,” he replies lazily, “Having trouble profiling, hm? We could have gone over it in session.”

Alex sighs and finally looks Michael in the eye, “Well you’re here now, would you like to go over it?”

Michael laughs lightly, “Well that’s not why I dropped by, actually.”

Alex merely raised his eyebrows in expectation; he’s tired and doesn’t want to play Michael’s games today.

He smiles indulgently and continues, “I wanted to see if you were still interested in bringing your dogs by? I have always found running the trail by my house to be a good way to clear my head.”

He doesn’t know why he feels so wary by the invitation, as though it’s too insistent, and Alex feels like he should reject the offer outright. Maria’s words ring in his head about them and then Isobel’s warning slithers in as well. He shakes his head as if trying to physically shake the thoughts out and decides to ask Michael directly about the things bothering him. “Maria thinks that our relationship might be too close,” he starts.

“She said that?” Michael looks surprised, or as surprised as he gets, one elegant eyebrow arched up and a minute tilt to his head. Alex flushes, uncomfortable with how well he can apparently read the other man.

“Not in so many words, but she reminded me that you were my therapist,” he replies instead of focusing further on Michael’s facial details.

Michael makes a considering sound before he answers, “Maria does therapy her way and I do it my way. While I might have a more unconventional take, it does not make her treatment method any better than mine. Furthermore, we are more than just patient and therapist; we are also coworkers, we are bound to have a friendlier relationship than Maria would have with a patient of hers.”

Alex relaxes, he didn’t realize he had been holding so much tension, but having Michael affirm that their relationship was fine helps quell some of the concerns he had been harboring. He decides to brush Isobel’s warning as well, just until he has more time to think it over. He smiles, “Okay. Okay, I’ll bring the gang by tonight for that run.”

Michael’s smile is positively delighted in that understated way of his and Alex doesn’t feel so guilty this time studying the man’s face. “Good. I will have an after run refreshment ready for you and the dogs.”

“You don’t have to do that for us, just some water will be fine,” Alex laughs.

“Alex, please. Cooking is an absolute delight for me and I would be happy to share that with you all.”

His heart skips a beat, utterly overwhelmed with the casual way that Michael is already welcoming Alex’s small army into his home. He takes a shuddering breath before replying, “Well the memory of your cooking makes it hard to say no.”

“Then don’t,” Michael replies easily, “I have never believed in denying ourselves simple pleasures in life.”

It’s too much, too much. Alex feels like he can’t breathe, Michael’s intoxicating presence and the intense eye contact he’s sustained during their entire conversation is clawing at the edges of his mind. He looks away, feeling as though he’s ceded some power to a dangerous predator. “A run and refreshments then,” he clears his throat, “Maybe we could go over the profile together.”

He chances a quick look at Michael before flitting his eyes away again. If Michael is disappointed that Alex has brought it back into work territory, he doesn’t show it. “That is an excellent idea,” Michael agrees readily.

“I’ll see you tonight then,” Alex says and picks up one of his files to start perusing through, dismissing Michael in both words and actions.

“Tonight,” Michael agrees amiably and Alex feels a phantom of a touch swipe gently against his knuckles before he’s left alone in his office.

Alex slumps down against his desk, resting his forehead against the cool surface. He thinks he’s starting to understand what Isobel meant about losing yourself in Michael, but that’s not what he finds terrifying.

No, it’s the way that he doesn’t care in the slightest and is willing to follow where Michael beckons.

* * *

When Alex arrives at Michael's opulent home with his ragtag crew in tow, he feels a little out of place. But Michael welcomes them in warmly with a smile and squats down to meet every single one of them. He very seriously asks to be introduced and Alex laughs a little breathlessly, again marveling at the way Michael understands how important they are to him. Alex points to each one as he introduces them: Buffy the beagle, Winston the brown shepherd retriever mix, Stella the border collie, Honey the weston terrier mix, Yoda the jack russell terrier, Willow the german shepherd, and Ellen the labradoodle.

Michael straightens up and smiles brightly at Alex, “They are lovely.”

Alex beams down at them before returning his attention to Michael, “Thank you. We’ll get going in a bit but I need to switch…” and he gestures at his leg a little awkwardly.

Michael merely nods and tells him that he might be more comfortable doing it in the sitting room and leads them there. Alex sits on the chaise feeling a little self-conscious, but Michael turns his attention to the dogs, giving them pats to keep them away from Alex, giving him some privacy while also remaining on the periphery if Alex needs him. Again, he feels a little wrong-footed with this small act of kindness.

Alex focuses on his prosthetic, switching out his everyday leg to the blade he uses when he goes running. He’s never shown his leg to anyone outside of doctors but Michael fastidiously keeps his attention on the dogs so he doesn’t feel uncomfortable by the switch off and he’s grateful.

Once the switch has been made, Alex stands and beckons the dogs over, “Okay, we’ll be back in a bit.”

“Excellent,” Michael replies. “I will have food for everyone and get my notes out on the case.”

Alex nods gratefully and they make their way outside. The dogs are happy to be on a new trail and eagerly keep up with the pace Alex sets for them. His mind wanders to the case, still trying to make the connection between Stef and her being kicked out. When he finally realizes it, he feels foolish, it’s so obvious. His father’s homophobia had never been motivated by religious reasons, so he didn’t make the connection. He flips the revelation over in his head wondering if that was a reason why the Ripper had targeted her. Could he also be homophobic? But that didn’t fit the profile, none of the other victims had a similar background. Still, the thought niggles at his mind and he can’t just dismiss it.

He returns about 45 minutes later, both he and the dogs tired from a satisfying run. He cautiously makes his way back to Michael’s house, a little nervous to be so sweaty but Michael merely smiles and welcomes everyone back in. He has set up several water dishes out for the dogs and gives a water bottle to Alex which he takes gratefully. He offers to take the dogs outside but Michael merely waves him off saying he’d made some homemade dog treats and trusts them to behave. “Good run?” he asks pleasantly, leading Alex into the kitchen.

“You were right, it helped enormously to clear my head. I can’t believe I didn’t realize it, but Stef was gay, that’s why she was kicked out of her home,” Alex replies as he follows Michael into the kitchen and takes a seat at the bar while Michael goes around to the oven to pull something out.

“Do you think that’s important?” Michael asks, genuinely interested, not condescending.

“I’m not sure,” Alex admits. “But there’s something about it that I can’t shake.”

Michael hums contemplatively and begins preparing the dessert. “What is this?” Alex asks as Michael works on the presentation.

“Bread pudding with mango, kiwi, star fruit, Guava fruit, mangosteen, and rambutan,” Michael explains and carefully pours a red sauce around the plate, “Garnished with cream, chocolate curls, and pomegranate sauce.”

“It smells delicious,” Alex compliments as Michael pushes the plate over to him. He preens under Alex’s praise.

They both quietly eat their dessert and it’s comfortable. Alex usually squirms at the thought of sitting in silence with someone, but with Michael, he doesn’t feel pressured to say anything. As they’re finishing up, Michael asks if Alex wants to change his prosthetic and even still he doesn’t feel uncomfortable with Michael so casually referencing it.

He realizes then that Michael had brought his bag with his other prosthetic into the kitchen while he’d been on his run and the idea of someone handling his prosthetic would normally have him spiraling. Instead, the thought of Michael looking out for Alex in this way warms him, a simple gesture of taking care of him.

Just as he starts to open the bag to switch out the prosthetics, Michael gathers their empty plates and begins washing them, turning his back to Alex to give him privacy just as he did in the sitting room earlier. Alex has never felt so safe in another person’s presence before. Not with the men and women of his unit that he’d forged deep bonds with, not with his mother before she left, and certainly not at home after she’d left. And he’s found this peace, this safety, with someone he’s known for only a handful of weeks, months. He never wants to let it go.

As he finishes rolling his sweatpants back over the prosthetic his phone rings and he’s tempted to ignore it until he sees that it’s Max calling. “Hello?” he answers and Michael turns around from the sink to watch him. It should be unnerving, but Alex welcomes the attention and gives him a guilty smile and shrug.

“Alex, we found another body. It’s pretty gruesome, do you think you can come out tonight to take a look?” Max doesn’t waste time with pleasantries.

“Okay, text me the info and I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he sighs, disappointed that his time with Michael is being cut short.

“Will do. I’m going to call Dr. Guerin in as well.”

“Ah, well I’m at his place right now. I’ll let him know,” Alex admits sheepishly, making eye contact with Michael who smiles, slow and sure.

“Okay, just get here as soon as you can,” Max says dismissively and hangs up.

“Another Ripper body?” Michael asks when Alex puts his phone down.

“Yeah Max wants us both there,” he explains and looks around nervously, “My dogs…”

“Do not worry about them, they can stay here,” Michael interrupts. “I am sure you are still tired from the run, so please let me drive us there.”

Alex smiles gratefully and they make their way out of the house to Michael’s car.

They arrive at the scene within the hour and grimly make their way to the back of the property where the body had been found in the barn. Max greets them both before letting Alex take a first look at the body. It’s disorienting when he walks in, the body has been nailed to a beam, the nail right through the man’s neck. A horribly sick feeling fills Alex as he makes his way closer. The body is lifted only a few inches off the ground and upon closer examination, he realizes there are fading red marks around the neck.

The body was positioned to look as if he were being choked against this wooden beam and with the revelation of the previous victim being gay, Alex feels his world tilt on its axis. His own neck throbs in sympathy and remembrance from a day in his own childhood when his father choked him after finding him kissing a boy.

He doesn’t know how to feel, but he knows he needs to get out of here _right now_


	7. Michael

Michael watches utterly fascinated as all color drains from Alex’s face. As far as Michael knows, he hasn’t even started doing the deep dive into the killer's mind but it seems like this is one he doesn’t have to do it with.

Though Michael doesn’t have to either, this is definitely their killer. Cruder and less elegant than his own works of art, but definitely _him_. Michael has his clear suspicions on who the other individual coined as the Ripper is but he’s not going to tell, not just yet. Nor is he going to blow up about having to share the title with such a rude person, _Il Mostro_ is still his and he’s much more proud of that exquisite work than whatever has been done under the Ripper persona. And it can’t be helped if he wants everything to end up according to plan.

Though he still can’t wait for Alex to find out it’s been two people all along.

But for now, he will relish in Alex being knocked off kilter by something he so obviously recognizes but cannot put his finger on. It delights him, possibly more than it should, but he cannot ignore the pleasure it gives him. Nor does he want to, when he can use it to do his own deep dive into someone’s becoming. And Alex’s becoming will be deliciously dark, he just knows it. The signs are there, the inclinations of all that Alex will end up being if Michael plays his cards in the correct manner.

“I can’t do this,” Alex suddenly exclaims. Well, sudden to all but Michael, and runs out of the barn. Liz, Kyle, and Max all look after him in shock and move to go after him but Michael stops them with a hand.

“Let me, I do believe I will help more in this situation than any of you.”

He sees all of them bristle minutely at his words but pays no attention to it, walking out leisurely after Alex. He finds him not far from the crime scene, leaning against the truck Liz and Kyle usually drive. He’s doing breathing exercises, breathing deeply in through his nose and out through pursed lips. Classic PTSD technique. Probably learned from a military psychiatrist.

“Alexander,” he says in a calm voice as he walks over, smiling slightly as Alex looks at him. “How do you feel?”

He lays his hand on Alex’s shoulder, squeezing as the touch is accepted without a flinch. Good.

“Embarrassed. Overwhelmed. Unsure. Probably a dozen other bad things,” Alex replies. The reply does surprise Michael, he was not expecting Alex to actually answer. But if him answering means Michael is getting through to him, then something’s changed between them. And that is something Michael can use to his advantage.

“Would you like to talk about it?”

Alex is still looking at him, though his breathing is more normal, almost as if being in Michael’s vicinity helps. Interesting.

“Maybe a raincheck? In our next session?” Alex asks. “I just need to… unscramble my brain.”

“Of course, any time you’d like,” Michael replies he removes his hand from Alex’s shoulder and steps back to a more respectable distance. The frown on Alex’s face as he does so is delicious.

“Michael, I-“

Alex’s sentence is interrupted by the flash of a camera from what is obviously not a crime scene camera. Alex freezes, the way Michael has seen veterans do several times, before his head whips towards a second flash of light.

“Hey! Who the hell are you and how did you get onto this crime scene?

“You need better cops,” the smarmy voice replies. “A white lie and he let me right in.”

Alex rises to his height in a way Michael has never seen him do before. A military move if he ever saw one.

“I asked you a question; who are you?”

“You already know who I am.”

Alex’s brow furrows in annoyance and Michael watches with concealed interest as his eyes distance the way they usually do when he’s in the mind of a killer. Alex using his gift in other areas is surprising but not unexpected. The way his eyes widen as he figures it out, however, is.

“David, is that you?”

“Yes, sir,” _David_ replies, lowering the camera as he grins widely at Alex. “It’s good to see you, Captain.”

“I would say the same, Lieutenant, but you’re trespassing on a crime scene,” Alex says. There’s a hidden fondness in his voice, it makes Michael’s blood boil.

“Don’t be like that Alex, you can be nice to an old…” David’s voice flickers over to Michael. “Friend.”

“Outside of work I would be. But you work for Tattlecrime, Dave. And as an Agent, I can’t let you stay.” _Dave_.

“You’re no fun, Special Agent Manes.” David pouts. “Anything you can share for my next article on the Ripper?”

“You know I can’t do that,” Alex replies.

David sighs. “Fine. I guess I’ll just have to stick around then. Maybe take you out for coffee?”

The flirty smile on David’s face and the amusement Alex can’t help but show is not good for Michael’s self control. He wants to rip this person apart, stick his knife in his abdomen and carve him into tiny pieces he can use for his next work of art. This man isn’t even suitable for his dinner table, with the manner in which he’s acting. It’s unbecoming and highly unprofessional.

“Not to put a damper on this scintillating conversation, but you truly have no business being at this crime scene,” Michael says. He knows his voice is cold, shockingly so if the look Alex sends him is any indication. But he has no patience for this man.

“Really now? And who are you?”

“Doctor Michael Guerin. I consult with the FBI.”

“Oooh, a Doctor. You’ve moved up from soldiers, Captain,” David says, smirking. Michael takes great pleasure in imagining strangling him with his own intestines.

“David.” Alex’s voice is warning now. “He’s right, you need to leave.”

“I will, I will. Still, it was great seeing you, Captain.”

“Call me Alex, I’m not a Captain anymore.”

“Alex then.” David smiles. “I’ll see you around, Alex, be sure to call me when you can share any details. Doctor Guerin, a _pleasure_.”

David slinks off the same way he probably came, after lifting his camera and taking one more photo towards the crime scene. Alex huffs but does nothing to stop him, rather watching as he walks off.

“Am I correct in assuming you have prior relations with that… character?” Michael asks.

“We were stationed together in Bahrain,” Alex replies. His voice has a caution to it that Michael hasn’t heard in a while. It’s as unnerving as the emotions swirling in the pit of Michael’s stomach. “He got discharged about a year before me, got a job as a journalist. He started writing for Tattlecrime about 6 months ago. He’s fair in his writing, but he definitely has that Tattlecrime flair.”

“If you can call Tattlecrime journalism.”

“Michael, what-“

“No matter,” Michael interrupts. “Are you ready to go back to the crime scene?”

Alex watches him and Michael knows he cannot hide his irritation completely even though he tries his best.

“Sure,” Alex finally says. “Let’s go back inside.”

He walks back towards the barn, not looking back as he does, all professional energy. It rubs Michael the wrong way, but he also knows it is of his own doing after being short with both Alex and _David_. He’ll reign in his emotions before he goes after him. He’ll have to not get completely off track with his plans for Alex.

* * *

Michael keeps away for the rest of the time they spend at the crime scene, agreeing with Alex’s assessment when inquired and giving his own opinions when needed. He keeps it professional while his emotions bubble inside of him, his annoyance of being dismissive of Alex overshadowing his fascination with this Ripper’s work. And with his annoyance, his irritation with David grows. It’s obvious to him that Alex and David had intimate relations and it makes him irrationally jealous. A feeling he is not comfortable with. It’s _silly_ , and silly is a thing Michael Guerin is not.

He’s relieved when Max releases them from service a few hours later, even though Max has no business _releasing_ any of them. At the moment, the only thing he wants is to take Alex home and… apologize.

“May I still take you home?” He asks quietly, mindful of how tired and drained Alex has become after hours on a crime scene and inside a killer’s mind.

“Considering my dogs are still at your house, you probably should,” Alex replies. His voice is gruff, annoyed. But not all that annoyance is turned towards Michael, though he knows some of it is.

“Of course,” he says, gently gesturing to the Bentley with a sweeping hand motion. A tiny hint of amusement crackles through Alex but it’s gone quickly enough that Michael is almost unsure if he saw it to begin with. Still, Alex climbs into the passenger seat of the Bentley, an involuntary hiss escaping him as the pressure of the prosthetic releases. “How is your leg?”

“Sore.” A one word reply then. No wonder the amusement was so fleeting.

“I apologize for my shortness with you after we met your… friend,” Michael says as they drive away from the scene. “I merely did not appreciate him sneaking into such an important place and interrupting _our_ conversation. But I should not have taken it out on you.”

Alex stays silent for a long time, looking out the passenger seat window.

“I didn’t deserve that,” he finally says, voice low. It makes Michael feel horrible about his behavior. He never feels horrible about his behavior. “And I don’t even know why you got so pissed.”

“I know you did not deserve it. I can only offer my most sincere apologies. I will endeavour to not let it happen again,” he replies, avoiding the second part all together. He might know why he got ‘pissed’, but Alex does not need to know. Yet.

“Okay.” Alex looks at him and smiles tiredly. “I forgive you.”

“Thank you. Now you rest, I will wake you when we arrive home.”

He's delighted when Alex seemingly falls asleep, not reacting when he calls it him but rather seeming comforted by it. Knowing what he knows of Alex Manes, him feeling secure enough to fall asleep in Michael’s company is a great matter. It seems Michael’s plan is starting to work.

* * *

A week later finds Michael in his office waiting for Alex. They have another session, and incidentally, it is the first time they have spoken since the crime scene. A fact that has made Michael wait for the call where Alex cancels their appointment again, but as the day grows long and the call never arrives, Michael settles in the knowledge that his apology was satisfactory.

Something he had been unsure about, as Alex had plainly rejected Michael’s offer of the guest room and instead bundled his pack of excitable, though admittedly well behaved, pack into his car and driven off towards Tijeras without so much as a second glance in Michael’s direction. Of course Michael has already met the pack, but Alex doesn’t know that and that is the way Michael intends it. His visits to Alex’s home was an early step in his plan and research of the man, a highly informative one at that. It gave him far more clues than any therapy session ever would and the advantage it gives him over many things is not to be dismissed. Plus, the pure scent of Alex in his home had been heavenly.

But for now, he intends on focusing on the present, and what the present will open for the future. Perhaps this session will give Michael the final pieces of his own puzzle, and make his future moves that much more apparent. But first, he needs Alex to open up, to tell him the things he needs to know in order to play the game.

He just hopes his rather crude reaction at the crime scene won’t have ruined that. And that Alex actually shows.

The door to his office opens as he thinks that, Rosa poking her head inside.

“Special Agent Manes is here, Doctor.”

“Thank you, Rosa. Please show him inside, and then you may leave. Thank you for today.”

She nods, winking at him in the manner she usually does when Alex shows up to his office. Too perceptive, that one, but never rude and Michael does enjoy having her as his assistant.

“I’ll see you Monday, have a good weekend,” she says as her parting words before she slips out the door. She doesn’t close it fully and Michael hears her tell Alex to get his butt inside so she can go home. He can’t help but huff in laughter as he too hears Alex chuckle. Never a dull moment.

“Michael, hi,” Alex says as he walks in. He looks good, calm even.

“Hello, Alex, I’m happy you’re here,” Michael replies, rising from behind his desk and walking over to shake Alex’s hand. “I’m glad I didn’t scare you off with my behavior the other day.”

“You were right, David should’ve never been there.” Alex shrugs. “Your irritation wasn’t with me, we’re good.”

“I’m pleased to hear that. Should we move on to the reason we’re both here or would you rather I apologize again?”

His attempt to lighten the mood works, as Alex laughs lowly and does the same sweeping motion towards the chairs as Michael did the Bentley the other night. Michael bows deeply as he moves towards his chair, and is rewarded by Alex smiling widely. He doesn’t anticipate Alex’s mood keeping with the questions he will be asking, so he will enjoy it while it lasts.

“You seem in good spirits today, Alex.”

“Yeah, I guess I am,” Alex says with a wry smile. “I’ve been sleeping fairly well for the last couple of days, got a good catch fishing yesterday. Guess my mind has been treating me well.”

“Is that unusual?”

“It’s not normal, that’s for sure. Especially after my freak out at the crime scene the other day.”

“Tell me about it,” Michael inquires, folding his hands in his lap as he watches Alex squirm a bit in the chair until he seems comfortable.

“The victims are all similar to me in some ways, they might be gay, have dark hair, or we have something else in common. And the way they’ve been killed just… they remind me of something. It made me panic a bit.”

“What do they remind you of?”

Alex meets his eyes for a brief second, before his gaze swiftly flits to over his shoulder. His classic way of avoiding eye contact when uncomfortable. “It reminds me of my dad.”

Again Michael finds himself taken a bit by surprise. He did not expect Alex to say it outright, this quickly.

“Oh?”

He watches Alex’s eyes move around restlessly. The good humour he came in with has all but disappeared, weighed down by the cloud of PTSD and empathic energy that Michael can almost smell. It’s a crackling static that makes Alex seem larger than life even when he’s hunched in on himself, a wave of dark potential so enticing that Michael wants to give him a knife and take him out hunting _right now_. It also makes him want to tangle his fingers in Alex’s hair and tilt his head back so he can slot their lips together, and lick his way into his mouth. He wants to straddle Alex’s lap in the chair he occupies, he wants to grind down until he feels an answering hardness. He wants to lick blood off of Alex’s hands, one finger at a time.

“My dad… he abused me, growing up. He couldn’t handle that I was gay so the only love I would get from him was by being beat up.” Alex’s eyes roll, as if his empathy is in motion though his gaze is still there. “The first time he caught me kissing a boy he choked me until I almost passed out, like the crime scene the other day. He would create increasingly difficult training exercises that I could never beat just so he could whip me for failing. He would hold my eyes open whenever he so much as caught me looking at boys until they burned.”

Alex falls silent, the crackle of energy quieting just enough that Michael can actually think without falling into the pool of want he has for Alex. He shuts that door in his mind palace, now is not the time.

“Go on,” he encourages gently instead, smiling reassuringly when Alex again meets his gaze for a fleeting second.

“He caught me having sex with someone when I was 17. He wasn’t even supposed to be home so I wasn’t as careful as I normally am. But he came in with a hammer and started yelling. And the guy I was with tried to make him stop. And my dad crushed his hand with the hammer.” Alex’s eyes start glazing over and Michael’s eyes narrow. He’s starting to lose himself in his memories, but Michael can’t stop him, not yet. “Once he tried to drown me in the kitchen sink because he felt I walked too slow. Another time he almost broke my back throwing me down a hill. He hit me and spit on me and broke my arm in three places when my best friend gave me a ride home.”

Alex’s eyes clear, pulling himself back from his memories without Michael’s help. A feat Michael feels strangely proud of.

“He put my hand palm down on the wood stove of his hunting cabin, cut the bottom of my feet and forced me to stay outside in the forest the rest of the night. I think he hoped the bears would eat me. You should’ve seen how disappointed he was the next day when he found me alive.”

“It sounds like you had a very traumatic childhood, Alex,” Michael says in the silence that comes after. Alex nods, wringing his hands together, picking at his nails. A bad habit, but Michael will not deter him after that story.

“I didn’t want to join the Air Force but it was the only thing I could think of that would let me get away and still make him somewhat proud. A Manes man always follows in his father’s footsteps, so that’s what I did. It made me who I am today, and I’m a survivor. He can’t touch me anymore.”

“No, he cannot.”

Michael will not let him.

* * *

Michael arrives home after the session with a million thoughts burning through his mind. Alex’s continued stories of his childhood rattle around in his brain like bad meat that you can never cook to perfection no matter how long you sous vide it, forever broken by bad breeding and incompetence. Jesse Manes is the _rudest_ of pigs, to have tried to break his son in the way that he did. Thankfully for him, he did not succeed, and the breaking had flipped in turn, making Alex one of the strongest individuals Michael ever had the fortune of meeting.

Were it not for the darkness swirling inside of the youngest Manes, Michael would have delighted in fighting for his life with him, a grapple that would take hours, a dance that would take hours until one of them perished. Perhaps that might still happen, though the hope he had for that scenario is long gone. Instead he wants him at his side, a partner in the finer things of life, someone he can show off as an extremely competent but gorgeous thing in his most luxurious of endeavours, and have alongside him in the grittier of aspects in the shadows. Alex will fit perfectly in both, a chameleon in his own right with unspeakable beauty and a venomous sting. If Michael structures the game to his advantage.

There is still work to be done, still many things that need to slot into place perfectly for his wants to be actualized and his needs to be met. Alex’s parting words from earlier are stuck in his brain, and he knows what he has to do, but he also has to be careful.

_“There are only two people who know what happened to me as a kid, Michael. You...and my dad.”_

Regardless, he needs to move the plan along and get more provisions for his next dinner with Alex, a dinner he convinced Alex to join him for the coming Friday. A date, if you will, though it was far too early to suggest it as such to Alex. That would come when Alex was ready, and that is not any time in the immediate future.

Until that happens he would rather figure out how to tell the other Ripper of the perfect mark, the one mark that might actually tip Alex over the edge to land right alongside Michael in the shadows. And while he does, he has his own moves to make, as he zips up the plastic suit over his regular suit and gathers his supply kit. Time to create some art.


	8. Alex

After the emotional session Alex has with Michael, he feels completely wrought out. He’s never admitted to all the things Jesse had done to him to another person before. But Michael didn’t look at him like he was a freak, there was understanding on his face, like he knew what it meant to suffer. It was another intriguing layer to Michael that Alex wanted to know more about.

He doesn’t think about it further, and when he gets home, he all but collapses on his bed with his pack surrounding him.

* * *

_Michael is crowding close to Alex, pressing him against the door. His pupils are blown and he reaches a hand to Alex’s face, places it on his cheek, and gently strokes his cheekbone. Alex closes his eyes and leans into the touch. When Michael pulls his hand away, his cheek feels wet and when Alex opens his eyes, he sees Michael’s hand is dripping blood._

_“Shh,” Michael soothes Alex when he notices. “Nothing is going to hurt you ever again.”_

_Alex smiles, slow and sure, before Michael roughly pulls Alex in for a kiss. His lips fall open and Michael wastes no time licking into his mouth. He moans desperately as Michael’s other hand pulls his waist closer to his body, grinding them together._

_Michael releases the hold on Alex’s neck and snakes a hand between them, tightly squeezing Alex’s cock --_

Alex’s eyes fly open, gasping for air. “Fuck,” he whispers once he realizes what he was dreaming about and how hard he is.

For months Alex has been denying his growing attraction to Michael, to others, to himself. But his body apparently didn’t get the message. It would be wildly inappropriate to jerk off to the thought of his therapist so he just lays in bed, sweat soaked, willing his hard-on to go away.

He thinks of Maria and the reproachful way she reminded him that Michael was his therapist and the shame he felt at the time. He knew then that he was attracted to Michael, that he’d been unreasonably jealous of her and Isobel at the dinner party. He’s embarrassed with the dream, Michael has been nothing but professional towards Alex and here he is lusting after him.

But.

That isn’t entirely true.

The way that Michael reacted to David had been startling, especially when he’d turn that anger on Alex too. It’s possible that Michael was jealous of David, and he didn’t even know the extent of the relationship he had with David. He remembers the dark look he’d shot towards David and the repentant way he’d approached Alex after.

The thought that Michael might also be attracted to Alex makes his cock jump, defeating what he’d been trying to ignore. He stubbornly turns on his side and closes his eyes, hoping he’ll fall back to sleep without dreaming of Michael again.

His dreams are blissfully free of a repeat performance and he does his best to not think about it again. But, he only gets a respite for a day because they soon return the next night and the night after that. Each one gets more explicit, closer to them coming together.

After a week of these dreams, Alex wakes to a growing wet spot on his boxers. He’s mortified that he’s come from a dream - as though he’s in high school again. He presses the heels of his hands to his eyes and takes long, deep breaths. These dreams are getting out of control, and he desperately hopes this is the end of them.

When he gets to the office, he throws himself into work. He refuses to think about anything but the photos before him. He immerses himself in studying the dozens of different Ripper crime scenes. He succeeds in not thinking about Michael for hours because before he knows it, it’s nearly time to leave.

But Alex never gets off that easy.

Michael calls that afternoon while Alex is getting ready to leave. “I have this excellent cut of thigh I was planning to bake in clay tonight. Are you interested in joining me for dinner?” he asks after they exchange their pleasantries.

Alex still feels a little uneasy with seeing Michael in person after dreaming of him for a week, especially after this morning’s incident. “I’m not sure…” he tries to hedge.

“Surely you are not going to let me waste such an exemplary meal on my own?” Michael coaxes. “Plus I have not cooked for you in a while and you did say you would join me today.”

Alex is floored when he realizes it is Friday already and indeed has been a week since he last saw Michael and he promised he would come over for dinner tonight. Nevertheless, he hesitates and Michael must hear it because he continues, “You know I enjoy sharing meals with you.”

Alex is struck again with the thought that Michael might also want something...more from their relationship. He decides that while he’s there, he’ll test the theory by carefully bringing up David. “Well, when you put it like that…” he answers.

“Wonderful!” Michael sounds like he’s beaming and his joy is infectious so Alex laughs breathlessly. “Are you leaving the office soon?” At Alex’s affirmative, he continues, “Why don’t you head over here after you have fed the dogs?”

Alex feels warm at the thought that Michael expects their dinner to be long enough that he should feed the dogs before heading over. “Okay, I’ll be there in an hour or so,” he replies.

“Excellent, I will see you soon,” Michael says, voice smooth and inviting. Alex melts at the tone and throughout his drive home and then back to Michael’s, he can’t stop thinking that Michael is _definitely_ interested in Alex back.

Once he’s arrived at Michael’s and he’s been ushered into the kitchen, Alex decides to put the feelers out. While the meat is being braised in its clay encasing, Michael peels the apples that will garnish the meat. Alex watches the careful way he takes the knife to the skin of the apple and begins to cut it away. Once he has the rhythm down, he casually says, “I ended up having coffee with David the other day.”

Michael’s hands falter minutely at the innocuous statement, but he quickly recovers. “Oh?”

Alex hums, pleased. “He wanted to get details on the Ripper case, but I didn’t feel comfortable discussing it with him.”

“A short coffee meeting then?” he asks, a little too casual if Alex is reading the way his knuckles have tightened against the knife and the way he keeps his attention on the apple correctly.

“No, we ended up catching up on everything since we last saw each other.” Michael has been slicing the apples into quarters after skinning them, so Alex snatches one and slowly eats it, watching Michael. He doesn’t react under Alex’s scrutiny, so once he’s finished the apple, he continues, “It’s strange. I’ve never kept in touch with an ex before but it was nice to see him again.”

That finally catches his attention. Michael puts the knife and apple aside and gazes thoughtfully at Alex. “I did not realize he was… _more_ than a friend.”

Alex doubts that; he knows Michael is perceptive enough that he read their familiarity with each other, but perhaps he didn’t realize David was more than a one night stand, more than a friend with benefits. He shrugs one shoulder while maintaining eye contact, “You didn’t seem interested at the time.”

Michael’s lips tighten but before he can come up with a retort, the oven beeps to signal the meat is done. He carefully sets his mask in place, right before Alex’s eyes which he watches in fascination, and smiles, “Ah, excuse me for a moment.”

Alex decides to drop the matter for now, opting instead to watch Michael in his element. He pulls the clay encased meat out of the oven and puts it on the serving platter he’d been putting the apples on and cracks the clay open with a flourish. As he begins removing the pieces of clay from the meat, the thigh is revealed, beautifully browned and the smell wafts pleasantly through the air.

“Would you like to eat here or in the dining room?” Michael asks as he grabs them two plates.

“Here is fine,” Alex replies, understanding that only Michael’s closest confidants get the privilege to dine in his sanctum. He wonders idly if Maria is afforded this allowance. Something ugly uncurls in his gut and he realizes how he wants to leverage Michael’s jealousy of David.

Michael smiles indulgently at Alex as he begins to serve them. “Well what else have you been up to since I last saw you?” he asks, passing the plate over to Alex.

“Honestly nothing much other than my coffee...date with David,” Alex chooses the word carefully.

Michael’s lips tug down, a facsimile of a frown. “I see.”

“He wants to meet up again in a few weeks, and I think it’ll be nice,” he continues, feigning ignorance over Michael’s annoyance over their return to this topic.

“I don’t think that is a good idea,” Michael nearly snaps.

Alex blinks, “Why not?”

“Do you really think he’s interested in you and not what you can provide for him?” he replies, a slight sneer on his face.

There’s a beat of silence before Alex answers, “I see.”

“Alex…” Michael starts, he doesn’t necessarily look chagrined but there is some regret in the corners of his eyes.

“No, you’re right. It’s unprofessional and I shouldn’t let my personal matters cloud my judgment,” Alex smiles but keeps his gaze downcast.

Michael doesn’t make any moves to placate Alex, for which he’s grateful. The conversation turns to other topics and the tension slowly abates as they become more engrossed in other conversations.

When they finish their meal, Michael gathers up their plates and takes them to the sink. “Maria mentioned you two have been having lunch together to discuss the Ripper case, has it been helpful?” he asks as he begins to wash them.

“Well I can’t share too many of the details with her since she’s not officially on the case, but she’s always a good sounding board for me,” he replies.

“Maria is lovely, I am glad she can help bring clarity to your thinking,” Michael praises.

Alex merely hums in agreement before he realizes this is the opening he had been hoping for earlier. He waits until Michael is done washing the plates before he clears his throat to get Michael’s attention on him. He looks up, a small smile gracing his face that Alex could get lost in. Instead, he returns the smile and starts, “I didn’t want to say this before, but I don’t feel comfortable with your relationship with Maria.”

“I beg your pardon?” Michael asks sharply, smile fading away.

“Maria told me that you two are sleeping together,” he explains and Michael looks shocked for a moment before schooling his features. “Maria is a close friend of mine and if you and I are going to continue our professional relationship, I would feel more comfortable knowing you weren’t.”

Michael’s eyes narrow a fraction, no doubt hearing it as the ultimatum it is. “Very well, you’re right. I didn’t think how that would impact you. I will cease the relationship tonight.”

He smiles gratefully, “I’d appreciate that.”

“In fact,” Michael continues as if Alex hadn’t spoken, “Why don’t I call her now?”

“I - no that’s not necessary,” he replies, wrong-footed.

“No, no. I _insist_ ,” Michael says, smile plastered back on his face, not the sweet one from before, something sour tinging this one. He reaches for his phone he’d placed to the side of the counter. Alex watches shell-shocked as Michael begins dialing her and switches the phone to speaker.

“Hello?” Maria’s melodic voice answers.

“Good evening Maria, my apologies for calling so late,” Michael begins, gaze unwaveringly focused on Alex.

She's quick to assure him, “Not at all!” Then she pitches her voice lower, saying suggestively, “I’m used to your late night calls."

“Ah yes, well tonight’s call is different,” he begins.

“Oh?”

“Yes, after careful consideration and given my professional relationship with Alex and your personal one with him, I think it would be best for us to desist our intimate relationship.” Alex sucks in a deep breath while Michael watches and raises an eyebrow at the reaction.

Maria is silent for a moment. “Are you breaking up with me because of Alex?” she sounds incredulous and Alex tries not to take offense at the tone.

“Now Maria,” Michael starts, “You know this relationship was only one of convenience and it has simply run its course.”

She doesn’t answer for a long moment but neither of them notice as they continue to stare at each other, tension heavy between them. Alex feels powerful at this moment, bending Michael to his will for once, his concern for Maria a mere distant thought. “Okay,” she finally says.

“Thank you for understanding,” Michael replies, face still stony and unreadable to Alex.

“Yeah, sure,” she scoffs before the tone clicks indicating she’s hung up.

Michael puts his phone to the side and doesn’t say anything. Alex watches the movement before flicking his eyes back to Michael. “You didn’t have to do that,” he says quietly.

“Your comfort is of the utmost importance to me, Alex,” Michael replies, voice smooth and silky. They sit there in silence for a moment, before Michael exaggeratedly sweeps his gaze over the mess from dinner and sighs, “Now, I must be rude and ask you to leave. I need to clean this up and would hate to put you out with such a mundane task.”

Alex nods, quietly agreeing that it would be for the best for him to leave now. “Of course, it’s getting late so I should go anyway. I’ll see you soon?”

Michael smiles slightly, “I will be busy with my other work for a while, so perhaps not as soon as we would like.”

If Michael is trying to make Alex feel bad, it doesn’t work. He still feels intoxicated by what he was able to manipulate to his benefit. Instead, he simply says, “Well, I look forward to the next time, then.”

Michael’s eyes sparkle, pleased with his response. “As do I. I always do.”

Alex doesn’t think Michael has forgiven him that quickly for forcing his hand on his relationship with Maria, but he takes the compliment anyway, basking in having Michael entirely to himself now. “Me too,” he agrees, a slow pleased smile curving his lips.

* * *

Alex’s dreams clear after that visit. He still dreams with the darkness creeping in the corners, but they are back to the normal ones of mutilated bodies, screaming faces, rather than the unhinged ones with Michael dripping blood, teeth in Alex’s neck as they both barrel toward their releases.

And with Michael ostensibly avoiding Alex, his mind feels clearer than it has in months. They find another body but it doesn’t send him spiraling like the last one had. Even though this one also feels...familiar in an uncomfortable way. The eyes of the victim had been clamped open but also burned out of their sockets. It feels like a message especially since this body is one of the first that is bereft of any other “gifts” left behind.

Of course, nothing good lasts long for Alex.

He’s leaving his house when he gets the call from Max. “Alex, we have another scene. It’s pretty grisly, but two vics this time, caught in a compromising situation. We’re hoping we can find traces of DNA on the scene.”

“You think he’d be that careless?” he asks.

“It’s a different scene for him, it feels like he’s getting bolder and it could mean he’s getting careless.”

“I’m not sure…” Alex replies dubiously.

“Just get here, I’ll text you the details,” Max says gruffly before hanging up.

Alex sighs and pulls to the side of the road until Max texts him the address and he inputs it into his GPS. The bodies had been found near the banks of the Rio Grande, close to the bosque. When he gets there, Max meets him by his car to walk him to the scene. “I called Dr. Guerin, but he couldn’t make it so it’s just you.”

“Yeah he said he was going to be busy with his patients,” Alex replies idly.

Max shoots him a surprised look but doesn’t comment on it, he continues explaining the crime scene instead, “Like I said on the phone, it’s two bodies this time, a man and a woman. They were found face down in the shallow banks of the river, so we’re guessing they were drowned, but we’ll have to wait for the autopsy to confirm. They were both naked and had been found in an embrace, he was inside of her.”

Alex flinches at the crass description. “Are we sure that this is where the bodies had been left? The water is shallow here but it’s possible the current could have brought them downstream.”

Max shakes his head, “No...the Ripper placed boulders on each of their right hands. He crushed their hands with the boulder before pinning them down. He definitely wanted them to be found here.”

He takes a deep breath, “Okay. What was taken?”

“Heart, both of them,” Max responds.

“Doomed lovers,” he mutters and Max nods solemnly beside him.

When they reach the scene, Kyle and Liz are crouched next to the two corpses. Liz is swiping the bodies with q-tips for bodily fluids while Kyle is taking photos. Max calls to them to clear out and they both nod their greetings to Alex while leaving him alone with the bodies.

He takes their place crouching next to them and he tries to empty his mind to read the scene. He watches the pendulum swing back and forth but then it’s just blackness. He frowns and shifts in his seat again, putting the image of the two bodies center in his mind. Again, the pendulum swings and he waits for the scene to unfold. But all that greets him is darkness and an empty slate. He opens his eyes, frantically gets to his feet, and locks eyes with Max who is watching from a short distance. “I’m not getting anything,” he breathes out in shock.

* * *

Max is angrily ranting at Alex when they get back to the lab. He’s only half listening, laying his head down against the cool counter of one of the metal tables.

“The Ripper leaves us a different crime scene than he ever has and the one time we need you to read this scene, you’re just blank,” he barks over him.

“I can’t turn it on and off like a switch Max,” he says, closing his eyes.

“Isn’t that exactly why you’re here?” he demands, “This is your _thing_ Alex, what else are you bringing to the table?”

That shocks him enough to yank his head up from the table, “Are you fucking kidding me, Max? I’m a damn good profiler. Me not getting a read on this _one_ scene isn’t going to change the outcome.”

“It could, we can’t be leaving things to chance like this,” he shouts.

Alex is about ready to go to physical blows with Max, he pulls himself upright on the chair he’s sitting on and has a vision of jumping over the table to throttle him. Just as he’s imagining it, Kyle and Liz interrupt them. “Hey guys,” Kyle says.

Max turns his fury on them, “What?”

“We think we found something,” Liz starts. “We tested the semen found on the scene and it’s a match with the male victim. We couldn’t find any other bodily fluids on either victim, all DNA matches are with each other.”

“So it’s clear that they had been engaged in intercourse moments before the murder,” Kyle continues, “Of course, we can’t determine if they had just finished when they were found, if they were interrupted, or if the killer forced them into it.”

“It is strange though,” Liz muses, “None of the bodies we’ve found up to this point have had any traces of semen. Murders like this where it’s obvious there’s a high emotional component tend to show signs of sexual violence as well.”

“Sexual violence?” Alex asks, face draining, “Like rape?”

“Right,” she replies, not noticing his reaction. “I know we’ve said before that these murders are messages to someone in particular so it makes me think that it’s definitely someone they’re closed to, but maybe a family member.”

“Like a son,” Alex says distantly, his mind flooded with all the signs finally clicking into place. The creeping _familiarity_ all the recent victims had exhibited.

_The string of young victims for a while that were close in age to Alex._

_Gay victims because his father_ hated _that Alex was gay._

_The choked out corpse like his father used to do when he was furious at Alex._

_Holding his eyes open until they burned because his father caught him looking at a boy._

_Crushing the hand of the first boy to lay a hand on Alex when they were caught and wanting to kill Alex for it._

Alex hears Max, Liz, and Kyle continue to talk around him but he can’t register any of it. “Fuck,” he says softly.

It’s not soft enough because Max turns his attention to Alex and sharply questions, “What? Did you figure something out?”

“No,” he lies, not ready to divulge it to them. He wants to confront his father and maybe talk it out with Michael first. “No, I just hadn’t considered the possibility of the Ripper trying to communicate with a family member.”

Max gives him a dubious look but lets it lay for now. They start putting together a profile to include the new information. When the day is over, Alex all but runs out of the building. As he’s pulling out of the parking, he calls Michael but the line trills over and over before his voicemail picks up. “Michael,” Alex begins urgently, “I think I might have figured out who the Ripper is. I think it might be my - well uh, I’m not sure, but just give me a call back when you can.”

After hanging up, Alex makes an impulse decision to head over to his father’s house, hoping Michael calls him back before he gets there.


	9. Michael

It irks him, the way in which Alex asks him to end his relations with Maria. Not because he was particularly attached to her or their sexual encounters but because Alex shouldn’t be in control here. Eventually, when he’s an equal, Michael won’t mind if he takes control but he’s not yet. Right now he’s just at the beginning of what he will become, he’s not yet at the point he’s supposed to be for Michael to let him have any sort of control of any situation they might find themselves in. The manipulation he showed is too early.

A deeper part of him is proud, fiercely satisfied with Alex’s need to manipulate to his own advantage. Though that isn’t something he’s willing to admit to yet, neither to himself or to anyone else. He will eventually when the timing is right and the reckoning is complete, though not until then.

It does, however, give him time to back away for the smallest bit with an excuse of needing time for his clients. Alex’s obvious manipulation shows him that his timeline is accelerated, which means that the plans in motion need to be accelerated as well if he’s not going to get caught in his own web of half-truths and painstakingly thought out moves. He just hopes Alex is ready as well when it comes to it.

He watches him carefully, standing a ways away from Tijeras, eyes tracking the motions of Alex walking back and forth in his house. He leaves about an hour later when the lights go off.

Time to find a certain Tattlecrime journalist.

* * *

He’s already done his research, he knows where David will be in the late hours of the night. Getting him from his office will be less easy, as will the gay club he frequents. The chance of spectators is greater, but he’ll be gone by the time they find the rest of him regardless so he’ll take the added issues if he must. The infraction David made cannot stand, both from their actual meeting and for thinking he could take Alex on any sort of a _date_ without consequence.

He really does not care about David not having any idea that there would be a consequence to it, rude pigs get what they deserve regardless of their knowledge.

He does find himself thankful when David isn’t at his office or the club, a sinister smile on his face as he drives towards his private residence. The Bentley might be noticeable, but as always he’s taken the care to change the license plates. His plastic suit is less easy to hide, but at 3am he’s sure none of David’s neighbors will be awake, according to the mild research he did. The infractions of the pig will be taken care of tonight.

David’s ‘house’ (more of a tired shack if he’s being honest) is dark when he arrives, all windows and probably all doors locked. Not that it matters, he took care to disable the backdoor lock when he was there earlier, switching the obvious PTSD medication for something stronger so David would sleep heavier. Michael isn’t a small and frail man by any means, moving bodies around has given him great strength, but even he might have issues against a former military professional. He would rather take his precautions, even if he does plan on… playing a bit with his dinner.

Getting in the house doesn’t prove to be difficult, as he expected, and his switching of the medication seems to have worked well as the pig makes no moves as he enters the bedroom, sprawled unattractively on the bed as he is, snoring like a freight train. Michael’s upper lip curls in disgust as he extracts a needle from within his suit and plunges it easily into David’s arm. From there it’s just a simple mission of lifting him from the bed to the car, which takes him no time at all thanks to his strength, and driving him to his own basement. He places him on a metal table and starts an IV with sedatives before strapping him down to the table just in case he wakes up. The basement is soundproof, but he still has to make sure the pig will not move.

He takes the time to look at him before taking off the plastic suit and moving upstairs. Some much needed sleep, a day with patients, and then he will be ready to further his plan even more.

* * *

He wakes the next day well rested, despite his late night, and thanks medical school once again for teaching him how to go about his day with not a lot of sleep. He might have a few hours until his first patient, but he still likes having his time in the morning to reflect. Especially when he has guests in the basement that he needs to keep an eye on should something occur.

Though nothing has changed during the three hours, and as he doesn’t feel like too much prep or carving any meat, he finds some sausage in the basement fridge and goes upstairs to make a simple omelette, adding some red onion, bell peppers, and gruyere from his kitchen fridge. He whisks it together and melts some butter in a frying pan, adding the egg mix when ready. He boils the water and measures coffee for his french press as he waits to flip the omelette, keeping a watchful eye on it all as he prepares the rest of his breakfast, toasting some bread and buttering it as he pours water into the coffee grounds and waits for it to finish.

It’s a routine, it’s comfort. He will be saddened when he can no longer have his mornings in this kitchen, but the reason it’s coming to an end will be a better one. Once he can trap the other Ripper. And David will be the key to that. Well. David and Alex both.

He pulls up Tattlecrime as he eats his breakfast and drinks his coffee, to be sure David’s disappearance hasn’t been noticed thus far. It hasn’t as far as he can see. He smirks to himself, finishing his omelette and coffee before going back upstairs to the master bathroom, disrobing and stepping into the shower.

The spray of water feels as exquisite as it always does, the rain shower washing over him and taking any worries away as he relaxes under it. He thinks of Alex, thinks of his strong hands and lithe body, of the strength that must live within, and the delicious musk of his natural scent. His cock takes notice, rising slowly but surely towards his belly. He ignores it, instead washing his hair and running his nails over his scalp. It feels good, and he breathes deeply as the arousal lingers.

He continues washing as he breathes deeply and slowly, rinsing his curls and moves on to wash his body. He runs his soapy hands slowly as he washes, closing his eyes so he can pretend it’s someone else's hands, Alex’s hands, running over him and gripping where he likes to be gripped, scratching lightly where he likes to be scratched.

He flicks his thumbnail over the head of his cock, hissing at the pleasure pain as he does. He grips himself tightly, immersing himself in his mind palace where he can _watch_ Alex do it to him even if his hands are his own.

It’s a heady feeling, watching it in his mind even if it isn’t real, even if there is no other sound than his own harsh breathing. The first time he hears Alex he wants it to be in real life, he’d rather not wonder how it’ll sound, how he might whisper dirty nothings in Michael’s ear or the moans he would make. The imagined visual is hot enough for his hand to move quicker and quicker till he comes with a stuttered moan, pulling himself back sharply from his mind palace to leave the imagination behind, rather not lingering on it too long. The fantasy is nice, the reality will be much better.

He finishes quickly, drying down rapidly and getting dressed in a deep blue, three-piece paisley suit, matching it with a burgundy, cashmere tie and dark brown shoes, brushing his curls back and taming them as he can, nodding sharply at himself in the mirror when he’s satisfied. He dons a light grey coat as he leaves the house, locking the door behind him, all three locks. Again, just in case.

Driving to his office is as always a great moment of contemplation, half his mind concentrating on the drive while the other half calculates and plans both his sessions, his interactions, and most importantly his meals. He plans what he needs to, considers his moves, contemplates his reactions. For the last five minutes, he just breathes, emptying his mind of all thoughts and takes comfort in his car and the silence. It readies him for everything that might happen. And something within him tells him he needs to be.

Rosa is already at the office when he arrives, raising her eyebrow at him as he walks through the door.

“I don’t know what you did, hermano, but Maria is in your office and she did not look happy when she walked in here,” she says, raising her eyebrows as he sighs. “Oh wow, you really did do something, huh.”

“Yes, I suppose,” he replies but only shakes his head minutely when she raises her eyebrow even higher. “Please hold my calls.”

“You got it. I’ll bring you coffee when she leaves.”

He nods gratefully, before he walks into his office to face the music. He will truly miss Rosa.

Maria is standing with her back towards the door when he walks in, her face tilting slightly to the side as she hears the door.

“I’m almost unsure if I should call you Doctor Guerin or if I’m still allowed to call you Michael.”

“You are always allowed to call me Michael, Maria,” he replies as he takes off his coat and hangs it behind his desk. “Our personal relationship does not change that.”

“Doesn’t it? You called to _break up_ with me citing a professional relationship with a _patient_ who happens to be one of my _best friends_.” She turns to look at him. She’s Maria, professional and friendly as always but he can see that she’s hurt.

“You weren’t in love with me.”

“No, and you’re not in love with me,” she agrees. “But getting rejected hurts for everyone. Especially when it comes out of the blue. I never expected more than a good time from you Michael but that was still really not nice in any way, shape, or form. And you should know that.”

He watches her for a moment. She’s so strong, so resilient, so honest. For her to say that he really must have hurt her regardless of what they were or weren’t, especially when all he could think about in the moment was playing the game with Alex, watching his becoming happen before his eyes. He never once considered her feelings, and he should have. Her friendship has always mattered greatly to him, hers and Isobel’s.

“I understand. And I am sorry for hurting you, I should have done it differently.” He smiles at her, small yet warm to make her feel better. She huffs at him but smiles back and he knows he’s forgiven.

“So. Did you end it just because of the professional relationship with Alex or did you end it because you’re as in love with him as he is with you?”

Michael’s eyes widen without meaning too, honestly caught by surprise. He knew Maria suspected something, he did not expect _that_.

“I’m not in love with Alex, Maria.”

“Not true, you’re at least halfway there,” she replies, forging along, one of the only people he will allow that from without considering them rude. “He’s your patient, Michael.”

“We already had this conversation months ago,” he reminds her.

“And we’re having it again.” Her smile turns slightly wry. “I just don’t want either of you to end up in a situation you can’t get out of without ruining your reputation.”

“Maria.” He walks over and takes her hands in his. “There’s nothing going on. And I will tell you now what I told you then, nothing will happen.”

“As long as he’s your patient, I know.” She takes her hands out of his and moves back. “Please make sure you keep that promise. Both of you.”

“You had this talk with Alex as well?”

“That’s confidential.”

It’s his turn to huff, but it brings a true smile back onto her lips so he will forgive it.

“Thank you for always being a friend, Doctor DeLuca.”

“The same to you, Doctor Guerin,” she replies. Her smile is still on her lips as she walks over and kisses him softly on the cheek. “Be careful, Michael. And be happy.”

“The same to you, Maria,” he says, kissing her back on the other cheek. He smiles as he leaves, nodding respectfully when she turns back to look at him before closing his office door behind her.

The smile slides off his lips as the door closes. Alex’s manipulation might have had one decent outcome, though the pieces of the puzzle now need to be moved quicker than ever before the tower comes tumbling down.

* * *

He gets home that Friday night with one singular purpose on his mind, walking downstairs to the basement and forcing a gag between David’s lips before he pulls the IV out of his arm, switching it with a muscle relaxant. He leaves him to wake up, taking the rest of the sausages out of his fridge before he goes back to his kitchen. His dinner is simple, sausages with mashed potatoes, roasted vegetables, and a red wine reduction that matches perfectly. The pig was a squealy one, abhorrently rude, but her meat came out splendidly. Too bad this was the last of her.

He finishes the red wine he poured for himself with his meal, getting up and removing the immaculate jacket of his suit. He hangs it over his dining room chair, takes a sip of the water before he brings his dishes to the sink, leaving them to soak.

His new pig needs some care and attention, now.

David is awakening as he walks back down, taking care to don his plastic suit as he watches the emerging panic. The suit is too lovely to ruin with blood after all.

“Hello, David,” he says as the trashing starts in earnest. “I’m afraid there is no give in your restraints but I do welcome you to try.”

David’s trashing stops as he obviously recognizes the voice, before it starts again. Maybe he finally recognizes the bigger predator.

“I’d apologize for what is about to happen, but you quite honestly brought it upon yourself,” Michael says as he walks over. David’s eyes close when he gets close but not before Michael’s caught a glimpse of the panic. Very good. “If only you had stayed away from Alex, this could all have been avoided. But you didn’t, so instead you will be made into an example.”

He grips David’s hair, pulling back sharply so he has no choice but to open his eyes.

“Though I do have to apologize for my own rudeness when we met, I did not approve of your flirting. I will also apologize for calling your writing horrible, I’ve actually quite appreciated your flair for the dramatics and your sass. Alas, no more.”

He releases David’s hair, pleased when the other man still keeps his eyes open. As if he knows he has to.

“Have you figured out who the Ripper might be, David?”

David swallows visibly, nodding his head towards Michael. A fair observation.

“You are correct, but you are also wrong. You see, The Ripper isn’t one person, it’s two. And I’m fairly sure you know who the other is as well, having been in the Air Force with Alex. Would you like to garner a guess?”

He sees the dawning recognition in David’s eyes as he gives him a few minutes to think about it. Sees the fear and realization gather. Sees him wondering if he ever really stood a chance.

“I have to go meet him now, I have to introduce myself and compliment his work. You will be my gift when I do so, the man that dated his child. I can only imagine how pleased he will be.”

The muffled screams of his victim as he takes a scalpel and plunges it into his eye is delicious. Maybe he could share some of this meat with whom might be his future father in law.

In the end, it doesn’t take long to carve his masterpiece, coming up as though he has been in a trance on Saturday morning to a bright and sunny new day. He felt inspired in ways he hasn’t before, the screams, whimpers, and painful moans furthering it along with great speed as if he were listening to the purest tones of Bach himself. Moving him to his car takes a bit longer, his piece needs to stay intact until he can display it, something that will have to wait a few hours still. He needs to eat and rest, and then he will give his gift. But before he does, he cleans his house and packs a bag should he need to leave quickly. He doesn’t have much meat left now, having eaten most of it, but what he does have left he packs away securely in a cooler he places in his car alongside the bag of clothes.

Though as he sleeps, the other Ripper’s reaction isn’t the one he dreams of, Alex’s is. He pictures it still when he awakens, when he eats, when he dons a beautiful grey, tweed suit and enters his car. He drives the speed limit, waves to people he knows as he drives by, and acts as unassuming as possible. No one would suspect him. Though halfway through his drive a feeling of a stone left unturned hits him. He thinks of the things he will be leaving behind if he has too, and while most things are easily left, one thing isn’t. It makes him pick up his phone and dial a number he knows very well by now.

“Hello, Michael.”

His heart lifts at Isobel’s voice in his ear. Calling her was the right move.

“Hello, Isobel. It is a comfort to hear your voice.”

“I’m sure,” she says with a laugh. “Not that I mind, but is there a particular reason you’re calling?”

He hesitates, long enough that she makes an inquisitory noise. “I suspect I called in case this is goodbye.”

“Oh? What do you mean?” She’s curious now, his Isobel.

“I suspect I’m about to meet The Ripper.”

The silence from the other end of the phone is deafening in his ear, but he understands it. He can’t say much and neither can she. Plausible deniability and all.

“Be careful, Michael. And good luck,” she says in the end and Michael’s heart grows fonder for her as it always does.

“And you, Isobel. Thank you for your excellent work over the years.”

She laughs, small and delighted yet with a hint of something sad. Perhaps she will miss him as well. “You’ve been a good patient, and at times a better brother than my actual one. Your absence will be noticed.”

“As will yours. Goodbye, Isobel.”

He hangs up before she can return the goodbye, just in case it isn’t final. He doesn’t think that it’s not, whichever outcome this has the chance of it turning out good is… not great. Though he will accept it regardless, he owes Alex that much.

The rest of the ride runs smoothly, now that he’s said his goodbyes and he arrives exactly when he’s supposed to and finds a darkened house, as he knew he would. Retired Chief Master Sergeant Jesse Manes lives alone, far away from other houses (much like his son) so getting into his house to set up without being noticed is easy, hiding the Bentley behind the house after he’s moved the body inside equally so. Then comes the fun part, as he arranges and displays the body exactly as he wants to. In the end, he has a work of art resembling the Air Force Logo, the stomach opened to display the star, the arms wrapped with intestines to be the wings, the legs cracked and rearranged to be the square. And the head, sitting in the middle of the stomach cavity to be the dot. David looks better now in death than he ever did alive, the perfect gift.

* * *

He waits for hours, as he knew he would have to, but the wait isn’t tedious or boring as it sometimes is. Instead he spends it in his mind palace with Alex. He spends it in his memories of their times together and their interactions, he spends it in the memory of Alex’s eyes. He’s beautiful in both his pain and his joy and every emotion in between. The wish to kiss him grows bigger than it ever has and he cannot wait for Alex to know who he truly is.

He registers the noise in his mind before his ears catch up and exits the mind palace as Jesse walks in the front door. He’s hidden in the shadows with a clear view of the other Ripper and watches intensely fascinated as Jesse stops in the middle of taking off his coat as he notices the art in front of him. Michael knows Jesse recognizes both the subject and the symbol by the way he grins, a cold, twisted grin that Michael appreciates greatly.

“I apologize for entering your home uninvited, but I hope this gift makes up for it.”

Jesse turns to look at him briefly but quickly turns back to the piece in front of him, taking off his coat fully and revealing the gun in his hand. “I caught a glimpse of your car as I was driving in, I knew someone was here. I didn’t expect this though.”

“Ah, yes. I figured a gift would be best for my infraction. I’m glad you approve,” Michael replies as he walks into the light. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“I’m guessing you’re the other Ripper?”

“Indeed. I also work with your son, Alex, at the FBI.”

Jesse snorts. “Alex isn’t my son, he’s an abomination. I’d like to forget the fact that he came from my genes and shares my name, if you don’t mind.”

“Understood,” Michael says with a short nod.

“He must have told you terrible things about me, for you to mimic my kills so well.”

Michael bristles at the word mimic, but lets it go for now. There are still pieces to be played in their game. “He’s told me many things, Master Chief. Though he would rather not talk about you. He houses a great deal of shame when it comes to you.”

Jesse finally turns away from the piece then, his lips curled up in a snarl. “I’m the one that should be ashamed, not him.”

“Be that as it may, he still does.”

“I tried my hardest to get that kid back on track, I did _everything_ I could to turn him back to the right path. But as you can see by this piece of shit, he didn’t,” Jesse says while waving a hand at David. “Instead he turned into a worse thing than I imagined. Homosexual, a _teacher_ , and a pansy ass adult. I should’ve drowned him when I had the chance.”

“Perhaps. But you have to admit this has been a delight, and probably would not have happened if you did drown him.” It takes great control for Michael not to show his anger at Jesse’s words. But his final piece is almost in place, now. And it will be worth it.

“Tell me why our kills have been put together as the same killer.”

Michael ignores the order for a minute until he can see Jesse start to tense in anger. His phone starts buzzing in his pant pocket, but he ignores that too.

“It was a coincidence the first few times, our methods and victims were similar enough that the FBI thought we must be one. Then when I started learning who you were and what you meant to Alex, I used the history I could garner to hide my kills within yours. To push him further towards the edge of darkness, your gift will be the last piece of that.”

“Yeah, it’s a magnificent gift,” Jesse says as he turns back to the piece, the cold grin returning to his mouth before he turns back towards Michael. “Thank you.”

“You misunderstand, Chief Manes,” Michael says with a grin as Jesse’s eyes furrow, the grin slipping from his face as he notices Michael removing something from the jacket of his own coat. “David might have been a gift to you. But you. You will be a gift for your son.”

He moves quickly, knowing that will be the only way he can surprise Jesse and shoves a piece of glass into his neck. The other man drops his gun in surprise, a half-shout escaping him as his hands go to the glass. Part of Michael wishes he would pull it out so the blood could flow freely, but of course Jesse Manes is too smart for that. No matter, he will lose his strength rapidly now and Michael will have won.

Michael takes the gun before Jesse can reach for it, placing it well out of reach as Jesse gasps and struggles with what to do.

“I realize that for a man like you this might not be a good death, to be surprised by a psychiatrist,” Michael says, staying where he is and watching as Jesse falls to the floor. “But I have been playing and planning this game for a very long time. There was no other outcome if I am to have a chance in making your son mine.”

He smiles as Jesse’s eyes widen, gurgling now as his eyes fill with anger in a last ditch effort to gather strength. “I suppose I should’ve told you that I’m a dirty bisexual. And that I’m in love with Alex. And that no matter how much you wish it, he is your son. So if there’s something wrong with him, then perhaps it came from you.”

Watching Jesse die with those being the last words he hears gives him a great deal of joy. He does have a plan for how to deal with that body as well but before he can implement it the door bursts open.

“Alex,” Michael says, his voice shocked despite him wanting it not to be as Alex stops in his tracks as he sees Michael. His eyes widen, his mouth opening to presumably ask questions but it swiftly snaps shut again as he notices the other _things_ going on. His eyes crinkle in confusion and something close to relief when he notices his father. His reaction to David is the complete opposite, his hand covering his mouth as he gasps. Though Michael sees the recognition in his eyes too at the way he’s displayed.

“What’s going on, Michael? Why are you in my dad’s house?” Alex asks, his voice on the verge of too shrill. “And with two dead bodies no less!”

Michael opens his mouth to answer, a denial already on his tongue before he can consider what he’s going to say. He swallows it after a few seconds of consideration. He didn’t plan for Alex to be here now, didn’t plan for the last piece of his puzzle to already be in place. But he cannot deny that this is what he wanted and now that he has it he finds himself unwilling to give it up.

“You already know the answer to that question,” he answers instead, calm as whatever greenery that saying entails. “You’ve known for a long time, Alex, who I really am. Who your father was. You just haven’t admitted it.”

The air turns silent, cold yet somehow electric as he watches the way Alex’s thoughts whir inside his head, the pieces he’s puzzled for months slotting into their correct places, their talks and innuendos making up the corners of their picture, reactions and thoughts filling the last pieces amidst actions and crime scenes. The puzzle takes shape until the picture is complete and Alex is only left with the undeniable truth that Michael has left before him.

“You killed him. And not just him, you killed David too. All because I said I went on a date with him.”

Michael stills, an unnatural stillness he has harnessed over the years that might freak Alex out.

“And if you killed them. It means you also ate one, or maybe both of them. You’re the cannibal I’ve been chasing. _We’ve_ been chasing. ”

Michael turns. His face is a blank mask, carefully constructed to show no emotions, no facial expressions, no nothing. He knows without a doubt that Alex wishes that he didn’t have feelings for the curly haired man in front of him, knows having feelings for a killer is something he didn’t want to have. Even if he is one himself. The only thing Alex wanted was to be good.

“No,” Michael replies. His lips quirk minutely, the only emotion he will let himself show. “Not yet.”

Alex’s eyes fill with tears, overwhelmed by emotion and yet completely relieved. Michael suspects it’s because his father is dead, his tormenter, his most hated person. The man who has tortured and beat him all his life, just for being who he is and not the perfect son his father imagined. It’s also for David, a dear friend who had to die because Alex wanted to provoke a reaction with a date that probably didn’t even happen.

It’s a testament to the feelings Michael has for this man that instead of feeling disgusted or cold towards the emotions he can see in his eyes, he’d rather go over and erase them. To give him any sort of comfort. He wants to take Alex’s face in his hands, to kiss his eyelids, to tell him there’s no need to be afraid any more. He wants to protect him for the rest of their lives.

“Tell me, Alex.” He decides to give in to his wishes; it might be the only time he can. “What happens now?”

He walks slowly over to the other man, and lifts one hand slower still. He watches Alex’s reactions, calculates the looks and tensing of the shoulders as he places his hand against Alex’s cheek, his thumb stroking over soft skin.

“Where do _we_ go from here?”

“What… what do you mean?” Alex asks in return.

“Well.” He smiles, and can’t help but notice the warmth that Alex cannot hide from his own eyes. “If someone were to kill me, I would not mind terribly if it was you.”


	10. Alex

He’s frozen in place, Michael’s hand still cupping his cheek, thumb still moving back and forth in a soothing manner. In any other circumstance, Alex would lean into the touch, finally receiving a small fraction of what he’s been craving from Michael. Instead, his throat clicks as he tries to understand what is happening. “What are you talking about?” he finally manages, rasping at the end of his question which he’d hoped would sound more like a demand.

“Alex,” Michael sighs his name like a prayer, still holding Alex in his grasp. “It’s all been leading up to this. My design. Your becoming.”

 _Design. Becoming_. The words wash over him but hold little meaning. His head is swimming, still trying to piece together everything that has happened in the past two hours. Two hours that feel like a lifetime long.

“Come now, you suspected something. You played your hand the other night, I know you have it in you,” Michael continues, voice hypnotic.

Alex remembers vividly the intoxicating feeling of manipulating Michael, of playing him the same way he has pushed Alex since they’ve met. How he wanted _more_ \- everything Michael had to offer and consume it for himself. He’s always known that Michael has hidden part of himself, Alex has seen it before. The way the perfect mask has slipped away for a moment right before him. But he _never_ suspected that this was what he was hiding.

But. Maybe he did suspect _something_. Why else would he have wanted to talk to Michael before he revealed to Max and the others what he figured out about his father? To get their story straight?

Michael is watching Alex, not saying anything but carefully cataloging the way Alex is puzzling everything together. “I don’t understand,” he finally whispers, hating how small he sounds.

“I know, darling,” the endearment rolls off Michael’s tongue smoothly, hitting Alex square in the chest at the way it sounds. “I’d hoped we had more time. I’d been weaving this together so carefully, but you got eager and I had to adjust our timeline.”

Alex flicks his eyes over where his father’s corpse lays, glass shard still lodged in his throat. Then he casts his eyes over to the elaborate...art that Michael made of David. Michael watches him carefully and when Alex looks back at Michael, his pupils are blown and he raises an eyebrow.

“Alex,” Michael croons again. “Look at everything I’ve done. For _you_. I can keep you safe. I’ve already eliminated two threats for you.”

“Threats?” Alex repeats warily. “How was David a threat to me? And not just to _you_?”

“Oh Alex,” Michael sighs and drags his thumb across Alex’s cheek again. “David was using you. He didn’t care about you, he just wanted to pump you for information and make you look foolish when he published confidential information in the Tattler. He was a slimy low life that _never_ deserved your attention.”

Alex trembles beneath Michael’s hand, half from fear of the situation and half from exhilaration at the thought that Michael would hand down judgment like this for _Alex_. Michael might be the one doing the dirty work, but Alex could wield the power over him. But he’s spent a lifetime bringing monsters to justice, was he really willing to throw all that away for Michael?

It’s remarkably easy to arrive at a decision. “Okay,” he says simply.

Michael’s other eyebrow raises at the simple response and Alex finally leans into Michael’s touch, decision made. “Okay?” Michael repeats, uncertainly.

Once again, Alex relishes in throwing Michael off balance like this. This constant give and take, bending and pulling at each other excites Alex. He feels heady with the power and knows that this is exactly how Michael feels when he decides who gets to live and who will...become a meal. Michael told him that Alex had the power to destroy him, and he could easily visualize a life like this, holding that power in his palm.

Rather than answer Michael’s question, he places one hand over Michael’s on his cheek. They stare at each other for a long moment and then Alex slowly nudges his head toward Michael’s palm and places a soft kiss on the warm skin. “You said I decide where we go from here. I choose this. You,” Alex whispers against Michael’s hand, carefully gauging his reaction.

Michael looks transfixed, absolutely mesmerized by Alex before finally surging forward and capturing Alex’s lips in a violent kiss. They crash together and Alex doesn’t know where he ends and Michael starts. It’s better than anything Alex ever thought possible - with Michael nipping at his lips just a touch too hard, cradling his face in both of his hands that are literally covered in his father’s blood.

It could be hours, minutes, or mere seconds when they finally part again. Michael keeps Alex’s face cradled between his hands and presses his forehead against Alex’s. They stand in this embrace for a long moment, gently swaying back and forth, eyes closed, breathing in the other’s air. Alex feels at peace for the first time in his entire life and safe in the knowledge that Michael will protect him from everything.

“Alex,” Michael murmurs and Alex merely hums in response, unwilling to open his eyes yet. “Alex,” he says again, more insistently. “We need to move, quick.”

That catches his attention so he finally opens his eyes, “What?”

Michael’s eyes flick away to the mess of the corpses and Alex understands. They need to clean up and leave the crime scene. Michael is looking at Alex intently again as if waiting to see if Alex will suddenly change his mind.

Instead, he nods, “What do you need me to do?”

Michael has Alex sit and watch since he doesn’t have the same plastic suit as Michael. It’s captivating watching Michael work. He tells Alex what his design is and he wonders idly if he would have been able to reconstruct it after his revelation mere hours ago. He has a fleeting thought that he should be more upset about everything happening, but as quickly as it enters his mind, he casts it away again.

At one point, Michael pulls out a bloody tac knife in a plastic bag from his duffel bag. “We’ll need to plant this knife somewhere. It’s what I used to shape David into this form,” Michael announces, he sounds detached and he’s again watching Alex as though this information will be the one that breaks the camel’s back and “wakes” Alex up, sending him running away from Michael’s side forever.

Alex glances at the knife then back at the crime scene and he looks at it with his consulting eyes. Where would be the best place to abandon the knife so it didn’t raise suspicion? He closes his eyes for a moment, letting the pendulum swing and watches from the other side.

_He walks in with Max and Michael. The scene before him is a bloody mess. In the center of the room is David, pieced together to make a mockery of the Air Force symbol. A symbol that has ruled Jesse’s life, his stellar reputation he’s hidden behind to commit these crimes._

_Now Jesse lays dead in front of David, a glass shard lodged in his throat. Dead eyes staring unseeing at his assailant. Max has Liz and Kyle come in to start taking samples from both bodies. He barks at the team to find anything that might tie Jesse to the crime instead of him being framed._

_Alex walks around the room, carefully cataloging anything that might be amiss and he feels Michael’s eyes following his every movement. He knows Jesse the most and they’re relying on him to figure it out. The tac knife is mere meters away from both bodies. “Looks like Jesse was carving David up when his assailant broke in,” Alex remarks, nodding at the knife and then back to the broken window. “Probably used one of the windows to attack him.”_

The pendulum swings back again and Alex opens his eyes. “We need to have it look like he was in the middle of working on this when he was attacked. Get his fingerprints on the knife and slide it away from him. We need to break a window, replace the glass in his neck with one of the shards from the mess.” His eyes are flitting around the room as he pictures the crime scene and directs Michael on how to stage it. When he finally looks back at Michael, his eyes are aflame, his lips twisted into a dark, pleased grin.

Alex’s heart skips a beat as he returns the smile and realizes he wants to spend the rest of his life putting that smile on Michael’s face.

* * *

While Liz and Kyle’s team are dusting the scene for prints, Max agrees with Alex’s assessment of how Jesse was killed. “He probably turned around with the knife still in his hand when the window was broken, they probably had some sort of struggle before the assailant disarmed him,” Alex continues speculating, bringing Max’s attention to all the details that had been carefully placed for this moment.

Max merely nods his agreement. “This definitely wasn’t a random attack. It feels calculated and emotionally driven,” he says, eyeing the crime scene.

“Whoever did it must have known he was the Ripper,” Alex muses, “Maybe he felt like it was some sort of vigilante justice?”

“It seems too close for it to be just that,” Max observes. “Whoever did it took organs and other body parts from him. Almost like a mockery of his own kills.”

“Jesse Manes was not a good man,” Michael speaks up, “Perhaps whoever it was knew him and made the connection.”

“What do you know about Jesse?” Max demands.

“Well,” he slants a look at Alex, “It’s something that has come up.”

Max flicks his eyes between them before realizing what Michael isn’t saying. He thins his lips before returning to the case, “Manes was in the military for over two decades. He was in contact with hundreds if not thousands of people.”

“Perhaps we should focus on verifying Jesse is the Ripper before we start interviewing everyone who could have possibly known him,” Michael suggests. Max’s eyes narrow briefly before he barks out to the team to search the house for evidence tying Jesse to the Ripper.

* * *

The investigation into Jesse is well underway, but the evidence is irrefutable. There is a mountain pile found in his house; pictures of all the bodies attributed to the Ripper and some not, human meat found in the freezer of his basement, a variety of weapons that match the manner of death of the Ripper’s victims. With the profile they put together after Liz and Kyle suggested the Ripper was trying to send a message to a family member - to _Alex_ \- there is no doubt it’s been Jesse all along.

Max pulls Alex aside once the media starts circling and tells him, “I think it’s best if you sit the investigation out. There are going to be a lot of questions on how you didn’t recognize your father in the murders and it’ll be best for you to just lay low for a bit.”

Alex stares at Max incredulously, “You put me on this case to find the Ripper. I did and now that we’ve got him you don’t want me on it?”

“It’s not like that,” Max snaps, “I’m looking out for you so you don’t have to deal with the fallout.”

“Gee thanks Max, I’ll remember that when everyone starts whispering at the Bureau that I was somehow involved,” Alex replies, spitefully.

“No one is going to think that. Look, I know you don’t want to be idle, so maybe you can put a profile together on who might have murdered your father.” Alex looks away at the suggestion and Max huffs, “You _do_ want to find him don’t you?”

“How can you even ask that?” Alex demands.

“You and Michael were acting rather strange at the scene the other day,” Max remarks casually. “Perhaps the assailant wasn’t outraged that Jesse was the Ripper, but that he’d hurt you. You did say at the first profile that it wasn’t the work of the Ripper, but maybe someone else.”

“I told you later that I was _wrong_ Max. You know these profiles evolve as we get more information,” Alex snaps.

“Changed your tune once you’d seen Michael for a couple of sessions. He seemed to know a lot about you and Jesse the other day when we found him,” Max says sharply, his anger matching Alex’s.

Alex stares at Max for a long moment, rage bubbling beneath his skin. “Are you fucking kidding me? My father abused me for _years_ , tormented me in the military, and taunted me with these murders - reenacting some of the most horrific times of my life - which Michael and I discussed extensively in the therapy _you_ forced on me. So excuse me if I’m not shedding any tears over the loss.”

Max puts his hands up defensively, the fight suddenly deflating out of him, “I’m sorry Alex, I know it’s not like that. Things are just especially tense right now, but I was way out of line.”

Alex scoffs, he’s not ready to let it just lay, and continues to antagonize him, “Whatever Max, it’s obvious you’ve never respected me. Trot me out when you need help solving cases you’re incapable of finishing and put me away when it becomes too much to deal with me.”

Max looks furious, he pushes into Alex’s space and he thinks for a gleeful moment that Max might punch him. But before either of them could get further into it, steps down the hall approach them and someone clears their throat. They pull away and it’s Michael standing there, looking elegant and raising an eyebrow at them. “My apologies, am I interrupting something?”

“Nothing,” Max gruffly replies. “What can we help you with, Doctor?”

Michael looks over at Alex briefly before returning his attention to Max. “May we go to your office to discuss it?”

Max nods and the three of them enter Max’s office. Michael takes the seat furthest from the door and steeples his fingers before starting, “Now that the investigation into the Ripper is winding down, I wanted to let you know that I will be departing the States.”

Max stares at Michael and Alex’s heart is beating wildly. This was a moment they had planned together. Michael anticipated that Max might start suspecting something but since there was nothing that could tie Michael to the murder, he could leave as he saw fit. “I have an estate outside of Cologne that I have neglected and I’ve recently received summons from its caretaker that he is ill and I don’t have any strong commitments here now that the case has mostly concluded.”

“What about our sessions?” Alex asks, injecting as much disbelief in the question as he can.

Michael turns to face Alex and smiles indulgently at him, “You’ve made incredible progress, Alex. I’m confident with the work we’ve done together and the specter of your father now behind you, you will thrive.”

Alex looks at his lap while Michael turns back to Max, “If there are no objections, I would like to consider this a termination of our association together, Max.”

Max shakes his head, “No Doctor, you’ve been an invaluable asset to our team, but I understand wanting to put this all behind you.”

Michael smiles and nods then gracefully stands from his seat. “It’s been a pleasure Maxwell, Captain.” As he strides out of the office, he pauses briefly to squeeze Alex’s shoulder. _I shall send for you once everything is prepared,_ he’d told Alex when they were planning.

Everything is slotting into place, now comes the great wait.

* * *

Months pass slowly after Michael’s departure. The investigation into Jesse begins to wrap up and Alex hastily puts together a profile on who might have killed Jesse, trying his best to point to Michael’s opposite. Nevertheless, as the days, weeks, _months_ pass, Alex begins to feel adrift. People at the Bureau tend to avoid him, his reputation tarnished by Jesse’s name. Being judged by his name again makes Alex feel like he’s drowning.

Max informs Alex in no uncertain terms after he provides the profile on Jesse’s killer that he won't be consulting on cases for the time being. “At least until things settle down,” he’d said with a tight smile, a meaningless platitude as they both knew until whoever murdered Jesse was found, the shadow would follow him.

Even in death, Jesse has a chokehold on Alex’s life.

* * *

Alex returns home one day, bone tired and ready to pass out with his pack surrounding him. He grabs the mail on his way back to the house and when he glances at the top piece of mail, he’s suddenly wide awake. The return address is from Isobel Evans.

Hesitantly, he rips open the envelope and two things tumble out. The first is Isobel’s business card which he inspects half-heartedly before flipping it over. _Good luck. Don’t lose yourself._ The scrawl is immaculate and it looks like it was carefully written. Alex thinks of Isobel’s warning all those months ago and a chill runs up his spine. She knew. She knew who Michael was and she still sat at his table, ate his food, lavished praise on his cooking.

It infuriates him in a way he doesn’t immediately understand until he’s crumbling up the card. He’s _jealous_ of her, for knowing and seeing Michael as he is long before he did. For the intimacy Michael allowed with her. She doesn’t deserve to know Michael in this way.

The other thing in the envelope is a folded notebook page. When he unfolds it, he sucks in a sharp breath. In familiar elegant script is an address, no other note is attached, but Alex sees it for the invitation it is. He reverently folds up the paper and sets it aside, thinking of his next move.

* * *

It’s as though he’d been stuck in this holding pattern, waiting for his beckons and now that he has it, it’s time to get to work. He begins to plan for his departure, starts packing away his life to embark on a new one. He sets the plan in motion by submitting his resignation to Max.

Max stares at the paper for a long moment before looking back up at Alex. “You don’t have to quit, Alex. I’m telling you, once this all blows over you can come back on cases.”

“Max, we both know it’s never going to be a good look for me to go back to consulting. My reputation is wrecked; it was already in tatters after the Shrike but not realizing it was my own father committing these heinous crimes? There’s no reason for me to stay.”

Max sighs heavily and rubs his temples. “It doesn’t matter what it will look like, you’re still the best in the business.”

Alex scoffs, “Hardly. My mind is fucked Max, I was only able to come back to consulting because I had Michael. And I’m just going to keep second guessing myself now.”

“We can get you another psychiatrist Alex,” he protests, though more weakly as he starts to realize there is no other alternative.

“You had to trick me into starting with Michael,” Alex points out. Max looks like he’s about to protest again but Alex levels him with a hard look and he deflates.

“I didn’t want it to be like this,” he says quietly, glancing back down at the resignation letter sitting mockingly on his desk.

“We did a lot of good work, Max. But you have a great team still, you’ll be fine without me.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Travel I guess,” Alex replies easily. “I’ve been stuck in New Mexico for most of my life and was only overseas during my tours. It’ll be nice to have some freedom.”

Max raises an eyebrow, “And your dogs?”

“I’m looking into a service that helps people travel the world with dogs. They help with the quarantining process when going into new countries and once they’re released, they hold them at their boarding facilities until the owners get there.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out,” Max says glumly. “You’re really set on leaving then.”

“It’s for the best, Max. I’ll only end up resenting all of you and I’d rather depart on my own terms.”

Max finally nods in understanding, “You’re right of course. But if there’s anything I can help you with….” he trails off. They both know Alex would never ask Max for help but Alex smiles and thanks him before departing his office.

* * *

Maria stops by his office a few days after his conversation with Max. He looks up at her knocking and she smiles before taking a seat across from him at his desk. “So you’re really leaving?”

Alex shrugs. He and Maria have only chatted a couple of times since Michael broke up with her. She has never acted differently around him, but he still feels impossibly distant from her. If Michael was right and that was when his embrace of his becoming started, Maria’s friendship is something in his past. “I don’t see why not. I’m treated like the Bureau’s dirty little secret.”

She tilts her head and studies him briefly. “I suppose you also don’t have a real incentive to stay either,” she remarks with a knowing smile.

His lips thin as he looks away. “It’s okay, Alex,” she says softly. When he looks over at her, she still has a small smile on her lips. “It was just a bit of fun between us and if you want to try something with him...” she trails off and shrugs delicately.

With a start, he realizes she thinks his behavior is because he feels awkward around her. It’s incredibly easy how he morphs into the part she’s expecting from him. He smiles indulgently at her and tries to say with as much relief as possible, “I just wasn’t sure.”

“You’ve always been a good friend,” she replies gratefully and the comment doesn’t sting Alex at all despite the implications. “And you’re also not his patient anymore.”

He shrugs again, “Well it doesn’t matter. He left and it’s time for me to move on as well. Try to put this behind me.”

“You’re not going to meet him?” she asks, surprised.

He shakes his head, “He had business to attend to him with his family estate. It sounded like he wanted to move past all this. But I want to travel, see the world, not from a combat zone.”

Her brow is furrowed but she doesn’t push the issue further. “Will you come back?”

“I’m not sure,” he lies. “Maybe after a couple of years, when all of this is ancient history.”

“I’ll miss you,” she reaches out to touch his hand.

He looks at it impassively and feels nothing. Maria was a good friend and he had cared about her, but it feels as though his life has been segmented into two parts and there’s no room for her in his new one. Nevertheless, he smiles gratefully at her, “You’ve been a great friend.”

Maria smiles and nods, getting up, “Not a goodbye, yeah? Just a ‘see you later’.”

He smiles and murmurs an agreement before she gives him one more lingering smile and steps out of his life.

* * *

Alex continues meticulously putting his plan in place, making sure everything is by the books so there’s no reason to suspect his departure. He looks into getting the necessary visa to travel overseas for an extended time and slowly begins packing the cabin up. The dogs watch him putter around the house, some sitting alert, others laying down wagging their tails lazily. Their trust in him warms his heart and helps him not doubt his decision.

Even when he puts them in their respective kennels, they watch him calmly and happily. He drives them to the company that will handle flying his dogs to Europe and quarantine them for the appropriate length of time. He exaggerated the service’s capabilities to Max a bit, rather than his dogs being boarded, the service will drop them off where he’ll be staying. On the application papers, he carefully writes out the address from the piece of paper in his pocket.

Alex watches them be whisked away and he feels a slight pang in his chest. But they’ll only be separated for a few weeks, he’ll see them again soon.

With his dogs safely taken care of, Alex makes the final preparation of sending all his things to storage and buys a series of plane tickets that eventually lands him in Berlin. He sends a copy of his itinerary off to the address so he’ll be expected and then leaves the States without a backward glance.

Alex spends a few days in various different European countries, taking in the scenery and freedom he feels. When it’s finally time for him to make the last leg of his journey to Berlin, he sleeps most of the flight - no doubts plaguing his mind. Jesse is gone and he will never hold Alex back again.

When he lands, he grabs his one duffel bag - the start of his new life - and hails a cab. He only speaks broken German, so rather than stumble through it, Alex passes his notebook paper with the address to the driver and they set off. He settles comfortably in the back of the car and watches Berlin pass him by.

The taxi drops Alex off at a nondescript house. He crumples the paper with the address written so neatly on it and shoves it into his pocket then slings his single duffel bag over his shoulder and slowly begins making his way to the house. Although the decision was made weeks - _months_ \- ago, he tries to pretend that he could turn around, get back in the taxi, and leave this behind. But like the first moment he met him, Alex is drawn to Michael and all reason has left him.

He finally makes it to the front door and rings the bell. He hears a quiet commotion within the house before Michael swings the door open. “Alex,” he greets warmly, eyes creased in happiness.

“Michael,” he breathes in return, all doubt deflating out of him. “I’m here,” he states unnecessarily.

“So you are,” Michael agrees, smiling. A beat passes between them, just drinking the other in. The reprieve is broken when Buffy wedges herself between Michael and the door, tail wagging rapidly back and forth at Alex’s presence.

“Hey girl,” he whispers and before he can squat down to properly greet her, Michael ushers him in and he’s greeted by the entire pack.

Michael disappears with Alex’s bag as he begins greeting each of them, patting each, and accepts kisses and cuddles from all. Once everyone is satisfied with the reunion, Alex gets back up and sees Michael standing in a doorway, watching with a fond smile. When they make eye contact, Michael’s smile widens. “Come,” he beckons, “Dinner is waiting.”

Alex follows close behind, through the doorway Michael had been perched against to an ornate dining table. The table has two place settings waiting for them, various side dishes smattered around, a wine decanter sitting between the two plates. Sitting in the center of the table is an elaborate meat dish whose scent is so strong and mouthwatering. Alex may not know what the dish is, but he certainly knows _who_ it is.

He breathes in sharply, not sure if it’s from fear or pleasure. He feels Michael moving behind him before coming up right behind him and wrapping his arms around Alex’s waist, propping his chin on his shoulder. “Welcome home, Alex,” he whispers hotly against his ear.

With his pack safe in the next room, Michael wrapping him up in his loving embrace, and his father served before him as a meal, Alex knows he finally is home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there might be an epilogue in the works 😎

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Settle in My Teeth](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28000497) by [Tasyfa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tasyfa/pseuds/Tasyfa)




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